Legends of the Legendaries
by N.L. Mars
Summary: An old tome in Canalave City written in a language of old reveals the origins and secrets of the Legendary Pokemon.
1. Prologue: The Book

**Prologue: The Book**

In the library in Canalave city, there rests an ancient leather-bound tome. It is entombed within a glass case, because of its frailty. The title is written in strange runes, footprint runes; the Pokémon language of old. It is said that this book tells of the beginning of the world, of the birth of the Legendary Pokémon. It tells of their origins. Of their legends.

The footprint language used in this ancient manuscript has been forgotten. Some say that Pokémon are able to read this language. Others say that some select humans are blessed by Uxie, and are able to understand the meaning behind the strange inscription. But, who knows?


	2. Chapter 1: The Titan of Ice

**Chapter One: The Titan of Ice**

In the mountains north of Cerulean city, a town resides. Rochetro was a little known town, though famous amongst karate masters. The mountainous path that led to Rochetro was perilous, twisting through ice-capped peaks. Only the strongest and bravest Pokémon trainers dared venture here. Very few knew of the existence of such a town.  
Blistering winds whipped through the valley. Hail and snow plummeted towards the ground. If one was to get lost, they'd never be found again.

* * *

Small, pudgy hands clawed at the packed ice as a boy pulled himself higher up the side of the mountain. The fingers of those hands were red, with a light purple tint. They moved stiffly, as if they caused pain.

The hands belonged to a young boy, of about 8 years of age.

The climb up this mountain was death-defying. Just like all the other mountains in this area, it was steep, slippery and glacial. The ice had made it impossible to get a sturdy grip on the chunks of packed snow that barely supported the weight of that young boy.

The boy climbed higher, and consequently, the weather grew colder. Several times, the boys' frostbitten fingers refused to grab onto the rock underneath the snow, and thus, several times, he had fallen onto a ridge a few feet below.

For what seemed like hours, the boy climbed, determined to conquer this deadly weather.

He was disoriented, numb and fatigued. He was sure that he was close to dying. He barely had the strength to breathe.

He kept climbing until he had reached a small plateau covered with a thick blanket of snow. On the wall of this plateau was a cave entrance. Shelter.  
The boy crawled towards this cavern, using up what little strength he had left.

This cavern had a long and narrow antechamber, the roof was low; the boy had to crawl on his stomach to be able to fit. The corridor led to a slightly bigger chamber. It was big enough for the boy to sit up.

In the middle of this chamber was a blue egg, half buried in the snow. It sparkled, as if the shell had been made of crystals. The boy crawled towards the egg, bemused by the sight. His hands shook as they hovered above the egg. He felt compelled to touch it, as if a sudden lust for it had been exposed. But at the same time, he felt wary of touching something so beautiful, and so mysterious.

The egg shook. It was such a sudden movement. The boy flinched as a crack appeared in the dazzling blue shell. He felt paralysed, and couldn't bring himself to remove his hovering, shuddering hand.

A soft chirping noise sounded from the egg, followed by restless rustling and scratching. Smaller cracks appeared, until part of the shell collapsed within the egg. A glimmer of light rebounded off of a sparkling feather. The boy gasped at the magnificence.

A head poked out from the fractured remains of the egg. Its plumage was predominately blue, with a vivid azure crest of three rhombus shaped feathers crowning the top of its head. A small, grey triangular beak rested in the very centre of its face. It gave a confused chirp, cocking its head at the boy.

The boy sat there, shivering violently. His skin was morbidly blue. His weak breath coiled into smoky tendrils that quickly dissipated. The fur coat that was wrapped around him was drenched, slowly hardening to form an icy case around him. But still, the boy pulled the wet clothes tighter around him, savouring what little warmth it offered.  
His body shook intensely as warm tears spilled from his eyes, and sobs caught in his throat. His breath was getting shallower by the minute.

The bird saw this and stepped out of the broken shell. Its small, grey talons left stick-like footprints in the soft carpet of snow. It spread its wings, the feathers resembling shards of ice. A long, elegant tail followed it, dragging across the snow.

The bird cautiously hopped towards the dying boy. It began to nuzzle its soft, feathery head against the boys' stiff, almost lifeless limbs. It then started nudging the boy towards the opening of the cavern, towards the plateau. The boy did as the bird seemed to command, and crawled out into the open space out on the plateau. The wind whipped at the boy, burning his skin.

"What now?" the boy asked, shivering uncontrollably.

The bird spread its wings, stretching them to its full capacity. It then flew upwards, into the blizzard, swooping and swerving with alacrity. It hovered above the boy, then grabbed onto his shoulders with sharp, grey talons. The boy was slowly lifted up into the air. He watched as the plane grew smaller and smaller, and soon, he could see the precarious pinnacle he had just scaled. The duo flew to higher elevations, and the boy watched as the ice-capped alps faded into ant hills, then into almost non-existent lumps on the horizon.

The magnificent bird flew among the clouds, until finally setting the boy down onto flat ground, far from the dangerous mountains. It nuzzled its head against the boys feet, then took off into the distance, giving off a final chirp, as sign of it goodbye. It flew overhead once, then took off into the clear horizon.

The boy stared at the minimizing figure of that icy bird, until it vanished completely. Suddenly, a feather softly floated in front of him, and landed in the dust in front of his bare feet. A brightly shining azure feather, particles of ice still clinging onto the vanes.

Years later, that feather was still in possession of the boy, and it remained as cold as the mountains he had lost himself in. And to this day, that legendary bird, the majestic bird roams the lands, rescuing poor, lost souls. This was the first _Articuno._


	3. Chapter 2: The Titan of Thunder

**Chapter Two: The Titan of Thunder**

The first known existence of the fabled winged mirage of lightning was in the great battle between itself and a Wailord. Before that, no records of it were documented, allowing the world to assume that it had been born for the battle.

The Wailord was almost twice the size of a regular Wailord. Because of its size, it was considered the leader, not just of the Wails, but of the entire ocean that surrounded the Pokémon world. From the shores of Cinnabar Island to Sunnyshore city. It was a ruthless leader, corrupt in many ways. It was violent and took great pleasure in tormenting weaker Pokémon. It also got to the point of attacking humans, killing many during the course of its reign. It constantly caused tidal waves that washed away everything. Small islands were unsafe, they were constantly being flooded and washed away; the inhabitants were the first victims the Wailord chose, out of pure fun.

And it is believed that is why the mythical Zapdos was born.

One day, the sky darkened. Murky storm clouds gathered in heaps, blackening the sun. Thunder clashed through the sky, lighting the world up momentarily with a blinding flash.  
The thunder had accumulated from a specific area of the clouds, from a brightly lit orb floating in the air. Sparks crackled from the shining orb, waves of electricity flailing wildly.

Both Pokémon and humans alike of the Hoenn precinct stared in wonder (and maybe horror, as this was a terrifying event, which no one could possibly predict the outcomes of). They watched as the sphere suddenly sped through the air, heading towards the ocean at impossible speeds.  
It swooped into the ocean, a tower of water splashed around the watery crater the bird had made in its dive.  
Breaths were held, as all was calm for but a few moments.

Abruptly, a roar sounded as a monstrous being erupted from the water. Wailord. Shortly after, a yellow, spiked object threw itself out of the water and hovered in the air above the Wailord.

As the enormous blue beast spat a jet of water, the rigid bird drew in electricity from the dim storm clouds overhead. Great charges wavered around the Zapdos, flickering maddeningly. The water struck the bird with great force, knocking it off-balance. It fell for a moment, but quickly regained posture.  
The bird continued charging itself, its bristly feathers prickled as more energy was absorbed.

A bolt of crackling electricity shot from the bird. It zigzagged through the sodden air, striking the gigantic foe with a sizzling spark. The elephantine creature was entangled in a hot, crackling vortex of voltage. It moaned with pain as the jolt rippled through its body.

The giant of the seas shook off the charge, and leapt up high into the sky, producing a full-bodied slam. The electric bird shrieked in pain and fell towards the water, when the Wailord struck again.  
Zapdos sunk below the surface of the ocean, flapping its wings wildly, and kicking its spindly feet, but with no prevail.  
The Wailord saw this as a perfect opportunity to strike again. It dove under the water, a few hundred leagues, then swiftly swum upwards, slamming into the weakening bird with astonishing momentum, thrusting it into the air.

Zapdos was stunned for a moment, then recouped its stance. It screeched its war-cry at an alarming volume. It hovered above the Wailord, then dug its talons into the thick flesh of the beast, blood curdling out of the puncture wounds. It struggled as it lifted the Wailord into the air. What a sight it was, a bird carrying a Wail.  
No matter how much the Wailord tried, no matter how much it thrashed about, the Zapdos would not let go.  
The Zapdos had lifted it a few hundred feet above the surface of the rippling ocean, and started to head north, towards land. The giant fish would be completely helpless on land.

When high above an empty field, it opened its bloody talons, releasing the Wailord where it plummeted toward the ground with such intense speed.  
The ground was steadily becoming closer as the Wailord fell.  
People from around the area saw what was happening and they stared in awe.

The ground shook violently as the Wailord fell. A dynamic thud had sounded, the resonance of thunder. Buildings within a 20 mile radius had quivered and crumbled. Everyone in the mainland of the Hoenn had felt the tremors. It sent out shock waves that pulsated throughout the land, rippling the water of clear ponds. Larger waves exited the shore, growing larger until they became tidal waves.

The Zapdos hovered above the Wailord's still body, its black, beady eyes never blinking, staring intently at the blue, bleeding Wailord. Small sparks crackled around the spiky-winged creature. A small ball of electricity flew from the static surrounding it, and plunged towards the Wailord, who was just beginning to stir, The Wailord stiffened for a moment as the ball of voltage struck it, and it flopped around helplessly, quivering.

A spray of water erupted from its mouth, hitting the Zapdos. The angered bird closed its eyes and dove towards the Wailord. The wind whistled as it passed through the bird's rigid feathers. The Wailord watched as the bird grew closer and closer, until it felt the initial shock as its beak pierced into the side of the Wailord. The bleeding Wailord gave out an indignant roar, then passed away.

This was the end of the terrifying reign of the Wailord. Zapdos was never seen again, though some claim to see a glimpse of its prickled wings in the midst of thunderstorms.


	4. Chapter 3: The Titan of Fire

**Chapter Three: The Titan of Fire**

As the world knows, Cinnabar Island is located upon a volcano. There is a myth revolving around that volcano, involving the birth of a magnificent creature and the near destruction of an island.

This myth takes place long ago, when the world was still young and pure. In the heart of the volcano, an egg lay. An egg that shone like rubies, smothered in searing hot lava. The egg lay dormant in its equally dormant environment. This egg had been formed by decades, maybe even centuries of heat, of the accumulation of bubbling lava in the pit hidden deep within the volcano.

The island of Cinnabar often felt light tremors. A tremor or two every year was never question or looked upon with suspicion.

Then one day, thousands of years ago, the unexpected happened; swollen clouds of thick, black smoke were heaving into the otherwise calm skyline. The ground rumbled angrily, shaking momentarily. But it was still early in the morning; people wouldn't start noticing this disruption until later. And the people would start questioning the events, putting it off as something not worth noticing. Then, they would start panicking as volcanic rocks would start to collide onto the shoreline and into the ocean surrounding Cinnabar.

The volcano rumbled menacingly. The ground shook violently; the tremors caused a few of the buildings to crumble. The sky was blackened by the thick murky smog that billowed from the volcano.  
The people were running to the few fishing rafts they had, fighting barbarically and selfishly for a safe escape from the island.

The egg inside that trembling volcano shook in the bubbling froth of lava. Inside that flaming egg with the ruby shell, a pair of eyes opened. The owner of those eyes saw complete darkness. It was serenely warm and calm in that seemingly infinite black void that, in reality, only stretched out to a few inches from the beast's eyes. It tried to stretch; its neck was bent and starting to ache. Its wings were kept firmly folded in place by the confined boundaries of its shell. Its beak scratched upon the curved outline. It started pecking at the hard shell, cracking it slowly. The shell suddenly caved in, making a large hole in the egg. Lava poured in, engulfing the newborn creature in the hot, sticky liquid.

The creature swiftly wriggled through the lava, almost like a worm crawls through the dirt, shooting through the surface. It spread its wings elegantly, sending a spray of lava across the craggy walls of the dim volcano. It moved its head this way and that, observing its new surroundings. The smell of sulphur astounded it.

The only source of light came from the opening of the volcano, some 30 to 40 yards from the current level of the fiery, bubbling ooze. But the lava kept getting pushed further up towards the opening. The bird flapped its broad wings and ascended towards the sky.

The scrambling, panicking people heard the melodic cry of the bird, and everyone turned to stare in awe at the magnificent creature with its fiery scarlet wings, stretched out. A few of the people fell to their knees, hoping that prayer would make it stop the ferocious growling of the island, whilst other threw rocks and slanderous curses at it. Everyone thought it had caused this event. But they were wrong. This bird, this creature that was born from the depths of the volcano was just a product of the events.

It cawed a final time, just before the volcano spat out chunks of red hot rocks and sprays of liquid fire. Lava bubbled over the edge, sliding its way down the forested slope, incinerating all in its path. The red river was moving at an incredibly alarming pace. But no one could see it, as ash had clouded their view. Everything was covered in a thick layer of soot.

No one on that island saw anything as they perished on that fateful day.

Only a handful had managed to escape, sailing to Pallet Town in dinghy little fishing boats. And they had all uttered but one word, the aparent cause for all this: _Moltres._


	5. Chapter 4: The Future

**Chapter Four: The Future**

On an empty plateau, save for a few cracked rocks, two figures stood side by side. One was a tall and slender human, a teenage girl with hair that was unnaturally yellow for this region. Perhaps this was one reason why she was here. Her glass eyes reflected the moonlight, sending it twinkling into the distance. Beside her stood a Xatu, staring blankly into space. It looked bored, but then again, it mightn't even be present in its state of mind at the time. And although the girl couldn't see it, she knew that Xatu was off in another time dimension.

"Xatu," the girl whispered. On this plateau, her voice may as well have been non-existent. A haunting whistle echoed around them as the wind wavered around them. "Show me what you see."

The Xatu nodded in acceptance and they both turned. The Pokémon then outstretched its wings and placed them over her arms. The feathers rustled slightly, and the girl felt their cool softness touch her skin. The hair on her arms prickled. The atmosphere that surrounded the mysterious duo became distorted, and the blind girl saw.

_An island. So tiny, only one building on it. A laboratory of some sorts? Plain and grey, no windows, only one entrance and exit, no hidden passages. Step through those doors, they slide open with ease, then close heavily, locking into place with a click. Stand facing a corridor, its brightly lit with a glowing light bulb hanging from the ceiling every few feet. Walk down that empty corridor; hear the hum of whirring machines. There are no doors or other corridors breaking off; it leads straight towards the bulky, metallic doors of an elevator. Step inside and feel gravity be defied as the cable pulls the metal box quickly under the surface. _

_Enter a room that is too big to fit on the island; it stretches out underneath the ocean as well. Complicated machines are humming and purring, lights flicking manically. Those machines clutter the room, creating a labyrinth of sputtering metal. Walk around the machines, turning left and right. So many contraptions, what do they do? _

_At the far end of the room, see a large purple creature resting in a watery incubator. Thick goo with a sickly green tinge is bubbling inside the tube, and diminutive pockets of air are rising up from a filter at the bottom of the tank. The purple creature is floating in the ooze, wires attached to various parts of its body. _

_Its arms are folded over a furry chest that heaves with each shallow breath._

_Laughter sounds, and the sound of clinking glasses. Turn around, there are people here, wearing strange white coats. They are celebrating. But why?_

"_Finally, we did it," one of the men says proudly. A tired grin is plastered across his face."Using the DNA of Mew, we have finally cloned a Pokémon that has existed only in legends. We have not only brought Mew to life, but we made it even stronger."_

"_We made the perfect Pokémon," a woman adds, taking a slow sip from her glass. _

"_What will we call this creature?" someone asks. Voices join his._

"_We shall call him... Mewtwo..."_

"Xatu..." the girl panted. Her brow was slick with sweat. "What was that? I don't understand. There were so many things that I've never seen before: large metal boxes, sparkling stars everywhere... What is all that? Was that.... Was that the future?"

The large bird stared at her, staring at the glass spheres that had replaced her real eyes. It thought of all the things he had made this poor, young girl see. And at what price? The things she saw, no human should ever witness such tragedies. But this prophecy was the worst prophecy that Xatu had ever projected onto his Seer. And he felt ashamed because of that.

The girl was kneeling on the smooth surface of the plateau, sobbing and wheezing. Seeing was an extraneous feat, requiring much energy from the chosen Seer.

"Xatu, please tell me... Is that the future? What is the significance of this Mewtwo? Will he do something?" The girls' face contorted into a pained grimace.

She looked up, staring right into Xatu's large, slanted eyes. Those glass eyes.... Transparent... Xatu could see beyond the glass, and see the black dark pink of her sockets. He shuddered; it was a disturbing sight.

"Show me more!"

Xatu flinched. He did not expect her to raise her voice like that, and in such a violent tone. But he obeyed his Seer, and hoddled closer towards her on his stumpy talons. Once close enough, he outstretched his wings and placed them on either side of her body. The girl felt the world around her distort as she was transported into a fourth dimension.

_Look at the feline-like creature. Its' tail is twitching. Stare at it for hours, for days, for weeks. Don't blink, or you might miss the crucial moment of rebellion. _

_Do you see? It's opening its eyes now, those slits widening to reveal a dark violet, almost black, pupil. An angry rumble is vibrating from its throat. It looks around and sees all those machines, all those flashing lights. Its paw moves; those spherical fingertips press against the wall of its glassy prison. It knows its trapped. It closes its eyes and a look of concentration appears on its face. A crack appears on the glass. At first, it's only a hairline fracture, but it evolves into a spider's glassy web. Soon, droplets of that green liquid are spilling from the cracks, then, the tank shatters._

_This draws the attention of the men and women in coats, the scientists. The gasp in horror and awe at the creature's raw power. A woman screams. _

_Shards of glass are still floating around the angry mutant. _

_A voice can be heard by everyone present, "Who am I?" _

_It takes them next to no time to realise it is their experiment. But no one answers, their throats are all clogged with surprise._

"_Who am I?" repeats the raspy voice. _

"_Y-you are Mewtwo..." chokes one of the men. "We made you from a piece of DNA found from an ancient fossil of Mew."_

"_Mew...Two...?" _

"_Yes, but you aren't just any clone, you are a super-clone; we made you to be the most powerful creature that ever existed."_

"_That's all I am...? A copy?" Mewtwo's eyes glow red. The floating shards of glass vibrate as the creature's anger grew. It turns its head, concentrating it's power onto one of the strange contraptions it was attached to. It explodes, sending sparks in all directions. Mewtwo repeats this action with another machine he is attached to. The machine gives the same result as the previous._

_By now, everyone is panicking, running towards the elevator. _

"_I am a copy!" Mewtwo roars. A flash of red flickers through the eyes of everyone present, then the thundering noise of metal being thrashed about, being ripped apart, being detonated. This laboratory will be no more. _

_Watch as Mewtwo stands in the ruins of the collapsed laboratory. There are no survivors. The mutants plan is to take revenge on the world that created him. _

_This could be the end of life as we know it..._

The girl screamed, tearing herself from the presence of the Xatu. "No! That can't happen..." she wept. "That can't happen, it's not fair..."

Xatu stared at her. "_There will be a boy..._" it said telepathically.

A boy. The world waits for him to save it.


	6. Chapter 5: The Ancestor

**Chapter Five: The Ancestor**

A flicker of pink fluttered among the thick, lush shrubbery, making the young man spin around, spear at the ready. But all he was able to see was the abundance of slender parasitic vines clinging onto the broad trunks of their hosts, the tropical trees. The rich stink of humidity hung thickly in the air, making the man's nose throb.

It felt so lonely in this desolate forest, no one but the greenery to keep him company. And the stalker that he was assigned to stalk. Oh, how life refuses to go according to plan.

A roar erupted from the bushes ahead of him, and the red of flame was forced through the trees, towards the man. A strange red dragon-like creature with rugged horns atop its head burst through the brush, stomping heavily. A Charizard. The man had been expecting this sort of ambush from his prey. Without flinching at the sight of the seething Pokémon, he threw the spear, and as the pike inched closer and closer towards the monster, the man became more confident with himself. But the Pokémon started to flicker as the spear grew close, and it completely disappeared just as the spear was about to hit it.

All was eerily silent. There was only one Pokémon that lived on this island, but it seemed to have many forms. The man was prepared to take on any challenge, any Pokémon that dared to show itself.

He walked on further, pushing through the lush green, trekking up a tree-laden mountain. He hiked for what could have been hours. Every once in a while, he would hear the sound of Pokémon, and the soft _thump_ footsteps, or the flutter of its wings, or the way they slithered over the messy forest floor, delicately snapping twigs. He was constantly being followed.

Through the trees, he caught a glimpse of a structure, made of crumbling stone. It was only when he approached and inspected it did he realise it was a temple. The stone was overgrown with lichen or vines in various areas, and in other parts, the sun had bleached the marble.

Carvings of symbols and Pokémon were etched into the marble, some had been worn down by thousands of years of exposure to nature. There was a walkway that led to the inside of the temple, gradually leading downwards into the ground. The man stepped towards the entrance, but stopped.

The shallow thumping of hooves could be heard in the distance, as they heavily trod over the messy carpet of leaves. They were coming from behind the man, so he rotated, fingers flexing over the wooden handle of the spear. From the shrubbery emerged an enraged-looking Pokémon, clad in brown fur. Its horns curved inwards, with the tip pointing out. The Tauros snorted, pawing at the ground with one of its cloven-hoofed feet.

In an instant, just as the man raised his spear, the bull disappeared with a distortion in the air, and for a brief second, the man thought that he could see a pink sparkle. But the blurriness quickly dissipated and in the place of the Tauros towered a huge Tyrannitar, glowering at the man. Its green shell reflected some of the rays from the afternoon sun. The Tyrannitar roared, stepping forward. The intimidated man retaliated by stepping several feet back.

He suddenly turned and ran down the cold, dark vestibule, until he painfully reached a T intersection by running into the rock. Something glittered in the air for a moment, then disappeared. The man thought this strange, but dismissed it. Along the length of the corridor, were several burning torches, separated by a few feet. Just like on the outside of this magnificent building, there were images of Pokémon, but these were painted on in vivid colours. He followed the trail of images, watching the pictorial story unfold before his eyes.

The first image was of what appeared to be a nest with a couple of eggs lying half hidden amongst the leaves and debris. Next to that was a series of pictures of various Pokémon, from the brilliant blue mermaid-like Vaporeon to the metallic winged Skarmory. He must have seen every Pokémon on those walls, it was beyond entrancing.

The man hadn't noticed that he had been walking through a series of corridors that twisted and turned and sloped downwards until he had reached a huge antechamber with a pyramid of stairs in the centre of the huge room. Curiosity compelled him to walk up those stairs, to explore this hidden cavern and discover whatever mysteries this place may hold. And as he climbed those huge steps, he surveyed his surroundings. He wondered what fuelled those flaming torches, and how long they had been burning for.

After a long period of time –the man couldn't tell how long, time seemed to flow too quickly or too slowly for his liking- he reached the top of the stair cased pyramid. At the top, he was greeted with a surprising image; a small, pink cat-like Pokémon with a long tail was drawn on a slate that rested on an altar. An echo of a light _meow_ sounded. It bounced off the walls, seeming to come from everywhere. The man spun around in turn, looking in every direction.

He saw a faint flicker of pink, a long tail, it looked like, but it disappeared before he could fully comprehend the image. He browsed the slate that lay on the alter and wondered if the pink was this mysterious creature. What could all the paintings he saw earlier mean? The Pokémon that attacked him, but vanished almost immediately?

Maybe, just maybe, it was this pink Pokémon that appeared and disappeared randomly? But the connection it had with all those other Pokémon made no sense.

He saw what looked like faint words etched into the slate. He could barely make any of the script out, it was faded.

'_Pokémon descended.. fr... one Pok.... Mew was.... first... This temple.... where Arc.... reated M..w... This is... sacred place whe.... all Pokém... emerged from_'


	7. Chapter 6: The Brass Tower, Part One

**A/N: **This is a different kind of chapter, as it doesn't focus on an idividual Pokemon, but it focuses more on the events that will eventually lead to the Legendary Beasts' individual stories. There will be three Part 2s; one for each of the Legendary cats/dogs/gerbils.  
Oh, and try and see if you can guess which of the Pokemon I describe in this chapte are.

**Chapter Six: The Brass Tower- Tale of the Legendary Beasts, Part One**

The small town of Ecruteak is nestled between the high mountain range of which Mt. Mortar was located and the fields that led towards the ocean. This town has the most spectacular legend regarding the fantastical creatures that are now referred to as "Legendaries". This is because not one, but _five_ mystical creatures have famous histories in this humble town. And they are all connected to the Brass Tower.

The Brass Tower was much like the Sprout Tower in Violet City; it was where monks had gone to meditate and train. The Brass Tower was located to the West of Etruteak City, whilst its counterpart, the Tin Tower was located in the East. At the top of each tower rested a giant bird Pokémon, to whom people would offer their thanks to. In the Brass Tower resided The Guardian of the Seas, while the Guardian of the Skies roosted on the top of the Tin Tower.

One night, only three Pokémon were left in the Brass Tower. They hadn't realised how late it was, nor did they notice how deadly the weather had become. Thunder was clashing loudly, sending bright flashes across the sky. The rain was pounding hard against the ground, creating wet, globular mud.

Inside the Brass Tower, those three Pokémon were placing their special gifts onto the beautifully adorned altar. The figure of an intensely yellow Pokémon, with fur sticking up in rigid spikes, like bolts of electricity, with an equally rigid white strip of fur surrounding its neck. It carried a large fang in its mouth, of about a foot long. The fan was curved, and had a sharp jagged end, which would have been very painful if it had been used.  
The Pokémon gently placed the fang onto the altar, and when its mouth was free, it said, 'I found this fang in the fields on the day I met my trainer. I had always kept it, seeing it as a sign of our friendship, but now that she is gone, I want you to have my most treasured possession.' It bowed its head and walked away.

The second Pokémon approached the altar, its scarlet fur seeming to dance like fire. Its tail, fringe and mane were a sallow colour, and wavered gently with each movement. It carried in its mouth a brilliant sparkling star piece. This treasure must be priceless, it glistened as it was placed onto the altar. It then said, 'This star piece was found on the lake edge out on Route 42. It was given to me by a battle I fought against a Goldeen, who had given it to me as a token of my strength. It said that this star piece fell to the bottom of the lake on the night the skies beyond the clouds fell. This treasure is much too precious for me, it is more fitting that it sit here on this altar.' It bowed its head as well, and walked away.

The last Pokémon approached. It stepped forward on slick, blue paws, with its fish-like tail dragging behind it. Its white collar spread out behind its large webbed ears and a fin in the very centre of the top of its head. The skin of this cerulean Pokémon glistened with condensation, which sparkled in the light the torches provided. It deposited a large, serrated crystal onto the altar, saying, 'I found this in the depths of the Mt. Mortar, buried in the darkness. This gem is a precious relic to me, because of its resemblance to my skin, which is why my trainer named me Crystal. But I'm not good enough to be in possession of something so magnificent.' The Pokémon bowed its head and walked back to its fellow companions.

All of a sudden, lightning struck the building. The building shook, and a spark was lit. No one noticed the smouldering of the fire that had started on the roof, no one had noticed as the entire roof was close to collapsing. Not until it was too late.

The ceiling above the three Pokémon had collapsed, covering them in a heap of burning rubble. When the rain had finally doused the fire, the three Pokémon were discovered.

It is said that the two Guardians that perched on the two towers cried that night.


	8. Chapter 7: The Embodiment of Thunder

**Chapter Seven: The Brass Tower- Part Two: The Embodiment of Thunder**

After the embers were left a smouldering heap of ashes, the Guardian of the Sea, and the Guardian of the Sky, surveyed the damage. The landscape was devastating, wreckage everywhere. Thick smog impaired the vision of the two winged creatures that hovered not far above the debris. One looked at the other, a nod was exchanged and they landed atop the smoking heap.

Lugia used its psychic powers to teleport one of the Pokémon that had perished in the rubble, and within moments, the glowing figure of the Jolteon had appeared above the wreckage, floating effortlessly, lifelessly. Next to it hovered the fang it had presented to Lugia.

The Lugia moaned, saying to its companion, "This selfless Pokémon died for me, but I have not the powers to revive it."

"My friend, I will do that for you. But you must use what powers you have left to gift this Pokémon," Ho-Oh declared, ruffling its white plumage and shaking its head so that the yellow crown of feathers atop its head shivered.

"Of course. I will merge this Pokémon with its gift, making it stronger. I will also give it more speed, because it will be the only one of its kind."

It closed its eyes, as did Ho-Oh, and a mystical aura seemed to be projected from the two winged creatures.

The fanged moved towards the Jolteon, and split, creating two identical fangs of such splendour. But, Jolteon began to transform into something much different, his body grew, his thin, dainty paws becoming broad and burly. The rigid spikes smoothed out into a thick, glossy coat, striped with black. A purple mane flowed out from the back of its neck, rustling, as if a cape. The Jolteon's non-existent tail grew into a jagged tail, resembling a lightning bolt, with a peculiar uneven shape on the end. And the fangs, they attached themselves to the Jolteon's mouth.

Ho-Oh then cried out, "Jolteon, accept our gifts! Accept this newfound strength and beauty we have given you! Accept new life!"

Breath suddenly gushed into the floating carcass, and its scarlet eyes opened. It growled, and snapped at the air with its new set of dentures. Its thick paws moved in a running motion in the air, and its tail drew sparks.

"What is your name, dear friend?" asked Lugia, opening its eyes to examine its creation.

"I remember it to once be Jolteon.... But I do not feel as if I am of that kind anymore. I feel like.... Like a Raikou..." the creature said slowly in deep growls.

"Well, then, _Raikou_, run off, and live life the way it should be lived!" Lugia wailed, tilting its head back to look at the skies.

The new-born Raikou nodded, bid them farewell with a trembling roar and sped off on its solid paws, the plump pads barely touching the ground. It might as well have been running on air. Thunderclouds formed at its feet, rumbling as it ran. Wherever it went, storms were sure to follow.

Over the years, it explored the entire Johto region, marvelled by its sights. After nearly a century of roaming the lands, it arrived back to the wreckage from where it first emerged from the rubble on that fateful night. But by then, its friends were already gone, and so were Lugia and Ho-Oh. But still, the Raikou sat in the cold, dusty floor of the basement of the ruined building. Only the basement and the first floor remained of this once magnificent monument. The basement was inaccessible to humans, the drop was too far to survive. A century had remarkably changed the environment of this wreckage, the ash had created a thick, hard carpet of grey on every surface, it had all packed together. It sat on a mound, and waited for the others to join him.


	9. Chapter 8:The Embodiment of Volcanos

**Chapter Eight: The Brass Tower, Part Two: The Embodiment of Volcanos**

After the mystical birds, Lugia and Ho-Oh had resurrected the carcass of Jolteon into new life in the form of Raikou, they turned back to the wreckage. Two more Pokémon were still trapped under the rubble, cold and dead. The rain was still gushing down, hitting hard against the two lone Pokémon. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, and the sky above was blackened by this nightmare, not even the moon's rays could get through the thick, murky blanket of smog.

"We need to gift the other two Pokémon," Ho-Oh said quietly, its head bowed down in solemnity. Its feathers were now sticking together, the water had broken through the thick, water resistant layer of feathers and had now doused its soft down.

Lugia nodded in agreement and used its psychic powers to bring the form of a Flareon from beneath the smouldering wreckage of the building. With it, appeared its gift of a star piece, shining intensely as the rain sprinkled liquid diamantes onto the treasure.

"This gift was awarded to you by a Goldeen, who saw great strength and worth in you, and though it was a great treasure to you, you still presented it to me," Lugia said forlornly to the carcass of the Flareon, "Ho-Oh, would you do the honours of resurrecting this gallant and noble Pokémon for me?"

Ho-Oh nodded acquiescingly and closed its eyes in deep meditation. Lugia joined it in meditation, and together, they merged their powers to not only restore, but transform, the lifeless Flareon.

The mangled body of the Flareon swelled and pulsated, shaking violently as its limbs elongated and enlarged. Its now-filthy scarlet fur turned into a shaggy russet coat. And its once dazzling fringe, mane and tail had disappeared, leaving a heavy mane of the same colour as the fur covering its body. Jagged silver plates sprouted in two rows on its back, and on its neck, flowing between the plates was a smoke-like cape. Cumbersome cuffs were wrapped around its colossal paws.

It opened its cardinal-red eyes and peered around.

"You; you were once known as Flareon," Lugia bellowed, looking intently at the new, revived Pokémon that was still floating in the air. "But if you accept this gift, you will become an entirely new creature, a God amongst fire Pokémon, a treasure amongst men. Do you accept my gift?"

Silence wavered for a few moments, as Flareon contemplated this decision that would impact the entire course of its life. The two deity-like birds hovered patiently, knowing very well that this was an important pronouncement, an event not to be rushed.

After many minutes of thought, Flareon finally spoke up; "I accept."

Lugia nodded and closed its eyes, concentrating on giving the Flareon a worthy gift.

The star piece that the Flareon had presented to Lugia earlier that night glowed vibrantly, and it broke in half. One of those halves floated towards the newly made Pokémon and placed itself onto the forehead of the Pokémon. This seemed to be a relatively painless procedure, as the Pokémon in question did not make a cry of objection or surprise.  
The other half of the star piece split again, then turned a bright alizarin, with an arsenic-grey middle that extended beyond the points. Those two halves placed themselves against either side of the beasts' cheeks. The end result was a golden crown sparkling atop the creatures' head, along with a faceplate, like the battle armour of old.

"Your gift will show everyone you meet of your strength and loyalty, of your modest nobility, and your selflessness. Be proud of what you have achieved, of what you have conquered!" Lugia shouted joyously, moving his large wings with delight.

"With your new transformation comes a new name," Ho-Oh said gently. "And your new name is _Entei_. Live up to the name we have given you."

The pristine Pokémon, Entei, was lowered onto the hard ground, and its claws retracted from its paws, getting used to this new body. Suddenly, it sprinted off into the distance, leaving behind smouldering footprints as it burnt the ground beneath it.

For almost two centuries, Entei roamed the land, where it discovered its skill of being to control a natural disaster; volcanic eruptions. It was whilst the creature was in the Kanto region, somewhere on an island, where it was cornered by a group of Pokémon poachers. Not knowing of its power, it roared, attempting to frighten off the poachers, when the land shook. Immediately, the beast ran back to where it had been reborn. And waiting for him was Raikou, the old friend he once knew as Jolteon.

Upon their meeting, they playfully fought, as they had often done when they were still Eons. They had recognised each other, not quite knowing how; proof that friendship never dies.


	10. Chapter 9: Embodiment of the North Wind

**Chapter Nine: The Brass Tower, Part Two: The Embodiment of the North Wind**

One last Pokémon remained in the catastrophic catacomb of wreckage and destruction. The Pokémon was dead, covered in a viscous paste of mud and ash. The two Guardians knew what they had to do, so without saying a single word, they closed their eyes, concentrating on firstly bringing the Pokémon's carcass to the surface.

The wind screamed through the air as it passed, just as the body of Vaporeon materialized through the shadows. The dirty body of this water Pokémon hovered in the air, as its companions had done so not long ago. Rain sputtered, falling gracefully, falling daintily, but also menacingly and mischievously.

The smoking wreckage had now been put out; all that remained of it was the tragic rubble of a holy building, with thin tendrils of smoke coiling through the murky darkness. The scene was dismal and macabre; this was the grave of three unique Pokémon, three Pokémon that could only have existed with the aid and love of a trainer and companions.

Lugia and Ho-Oh stared at this beautiful Pokémon with a longing look. They were regretful of what had happened to not only Vaporeon, but to Jolteon and Flareon as well. This was a tragedy, and they knew of no other way to repay the poor Pokémon that had fallen.

"Vaporeon," Ho-Oh whispered, its tears mingling with fat raindrops. "Please accept my gift of life and transformation."

The mermaid-like body of the Vaporeon shifted and contorted in shape, its long, alluring tail splitting at the middle and, as if being pulled, turning into two ribbon-like fixtures that wavered around its body, flowing this way and that. Sky blue fur had sprouted from its once slick skin. White rhombus batches were scattered across the light, feathery pelt. Its paws became sleek and slender, its body, elegant. A mane of amethyst flowed like a cape behind it, and it billowed behind it, shaking violently in the rough winds.  
Its white, frilled collar shrunk back into its neck and its ears disappeared as well. Its face transformed from that of a dog-like creature to a feline structure, just like the rest of its elegant body.

"Vaporeon," Lugia said, admiring the work of his companion. "Do you accept my gift of beauty and charm, because of your gift to me earlier this night, a gift of perfection?"

"I accept!" the Vaporeon answered eagerly, flexing itself in a graceful manner. It preened itself, nuzzling its nose into the delicate fur, muting its soft pleasurable whimpers of delight. Its vanity was already shining through.

Within seconds, the crystal that was radiantly gleaming moved towards the Vaporeon's fin, which was slowly disappearing into its head. The crystal then transformed itself into an outline of a hexagonal crest, which sparkled as the rain fell delicately onto the smooth-cut surface of the diamond crown.

Lugia spoke up after the transformation, still eyeing the magnificent crown that extended beyond the top of the creatures' head, like the crown of the Queens of old, of the royal ladies of myths. He said, "Vaporeon, you are now a completely new Pokémon, so you need a name that is more fitting, such as Suicune,"

The pace and strength of the wind picked up, and the trees around the circle of wreckage flailed wildly, almost dancing. Vaporeon, now Suicune, nodded graciously, floated gently down towards the ground.

Its velvety paw settled into a filthy, mud-ridden puddle, and almost instantly, the water purified, turning into a translucent liquid. When the clouds shifted, allowing a single beam of moonlight to descend, and the beam landed onto the clear puddle, and it glimmered magically. It smiled at this strange ability, feeling a serene peace enveloping it.

"Suicune, use this power as you see fit, and make use of the gifts we have given to you," Ho-Oh told the reborn beast.

Momentarily, Suicune pumped its legs and ran faster than the wind that was constantly following it, constantly entombing it in a turbulent, bracing aura. It ran many miles in the first few seconds, and before long, it found itself standing atop the rough waves of an ocean. Land was too far, even for Suicune's keen eye to see. But this concept bemused the seemingly mythical beast. Suicune smiled as it padded a soft paw against the hard surface of the water, interested in this technique.

Centuries after this Pokémon had toyed with the waves it was standing on, it retired back to the town it had perished in as a Vaporeon. It stepped through the open doorway of the Brass Tower, now referred to as the Burnt Tower by the townsfolk. The door was a broken mess, half burnt, half splintered, what was left of it was either hanging off the rusty hinges, or strewn about. The entire first floor was now a series of small rooms, its walls made of fallen debris. This had once been a single room. Suicune explored this jungle of fragmented wood and ash. Eventually, it had found a hole in the floor; a hole that led to the basement. The drop seemed dangerous, but Suicune always landed on its feet.

And so, it pounced, falling through the dusty darkness, until its paws thudded against a thick carpet of ash. Somewhere in the darkness, two large figures stiffened and sniffed the air. The fur on their back raised on end, and their faces pulled back into a snarl. They walked towards the stranger, then their expressions softened. Their fur flaccidly fell back to their bodies, and they scampered towards their old companion.

"Vaporeon! Vaporeon!" the two beasts shouted. "Crystal!"

Suicune remembered those names, and she smiled as her two companions darted towards her, pouncing on their friend.

"Flareon, Jolteon, is that really you?" Suicune asked in bewilderment.

"Actually, my name is Raikou now," Raikou said proudly, pushing his chest out.

"And I am Entei," Entei growled conceitedly. He flexed his back and stretched.

"And my name is now Suicune," Suicune smiled. She walked up to them and gently licked them both on the nose, as she had once did when she had been a Vaporeon.

Here, they would live forever, until someone disturbs their peace.


	11. Chapter 10: The Guardian of the Sea

**Chapter Ten: Guardian of the Sea**

There is a cold, dark cavern, hidden in the depths of an underwater abyss. Water can be heard trickling, dripping, echoing throughout the labyrinth of stone caves in this submerged hell. It's a sound that can drive a man to insanity. In the first few hundred feet of this grotto, a wide abundance of aquatic Pokémon dwelled, but further than that, nothing but the haunting sound of water sloshing in the strange currents of the cavern's lakes. No human has ever ventured this far into this mysterious cave. A maze of fissures and antechambers, the ground littered with mighty boulders that even most heavy-weight Pokémon wouldn't be able to push aside.

Stalactites hung from the high ceilings of the caverns. Only the tips of the significantly larger mineral cones were seen, as the rest of the bodies plunged into the resolute black oblivion. Saturated water, thick and glistening with heavy minerals, splattered onto the thick, serrated towers of calcium deposits that poked through the ground, smothering them with the rich calcium.

Darkness surrounded a lone creature that sat sulking in a vast cavern. Even in the looming darkness, the creature seemed to glow a faint silver. It was perched upon a craggy ledge of what was once a waterfall, but had long since dried up. The creature was in this antechamber for so long that it had witnessed that occurrence.

A poignant, solemn moan pulsated from the creatures' mouth, rumbling smoothly. The creature was crying. The pain it was enduring was agonizing, excruciating, heart wrenching. The hollow cries echoed within the cavern; the creatures that dwell hundreds of feet above this particular catacomb heard the bizarre lamenting sobs. Every living thing shuddered and scuttled away to hide.

The crying beast was Lugia, a giant Pokémon, covered in a shining, silvery down, seeming to be crafted from diamonds. Its' underbelly was a pale blue tint, still sparkling as intensely as the silver feather-like fluff. Wings folded over the Pokémon's' body, enveloping itself in a constricted embrace. Its' wings seemed to be a remarkable optical illusion, as the tips appeared to be solid, chunky appendages; fingers that were easily controlled by the beast. Two rows of five spike-like protrusions jutted out, running down the length of its' back. At the conclusion of its' tail, two more black spikes protruded, on either side of the tail.

Its' black irises surveyed the equally murky surroundings. However, its' vision was better than most. The creature could see every individual fissure and contour in the rocky walls; the silent ripples on the serene surface of the mere. The stalactites dripped their calcium-rich fluids onto the rising stalagmites that ascended just high enough that most of their tips barely jutted from the black surface of the water.

Lugia was haunted by its memories. It had made a mistake, that led to thoughts and worries that made its life a living nightmare. It was a monster.

When he was born, his mother told him stories of strange creatures that walked on two appendages; "humans", that's what she called those bizarre-looking creatures. She had warned him to never leave the safety of the caves, as they would try to capture such an atypical Pokémon as Lugia was.

At least a thousand years ago, when that very same Lugia was still young and seemingly pure, the adolescent Pokémon left the security of the sunken caverns to explore the tremendous portion of the world it was hidden away from. He was surprised at the unanticipated glare of the sun, and the fresh breeze of fresh air, mingled with a salty tang. Lugia's large wings carried him over the vast, rippling surface of the ocean. He followed the swells towards land, and flew over the golden sand that stretched on for miles until he reached the highlands. Past the verdant fields, he reached a tiny town, of a population of barely a hundred.

By then, Lugia had become fatigued, so he had decided to rest at the foot of a mountain, not far from the settlement. From his hideaway, he noticed another bird-like creature, a golden bird, sparkling as it roosted atop the tiled rooftop of a magnificent building. He was charmed by this creature, he felt at peace.

After resting –where he had not removed the bright creature from his sights- he decided to find out more about this creature, to befriend it. As he flapped those monstrous wings of his, he noticed that he was creating huge zephyrs that ripped limbs from trees, making a whirlwind of leaves, sticks and stones. He was destroying his surroundings.

He approached the magnificent bird, flying slowly, so that he could observe it more. The golden creature spotted him, and cocked its head in confusion. She was perched upon the edge of the beautifully ornate rooftop. She looked at the silver creature with curiosity, not moving her eyes as he landed atop the roof next to her. Both these Pokémon sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight, their feathers seeming to be woven from gold and silver.

"Hello," Lugia said shyly, looking down at the carved ledge of the roof. "I'm Lugia."

"I'm Ho-Oh," the golden bird said happily, bobbing her head with each word she said. "I've never seen a Pokémon like you before, where do you hail from?"

"I hail from a cave," Lugia said. "Do you want to be my friend?"

Ho-Oh smiled, and they took off, playing games until the sun had begun to set, dimming the world. Lugia, who had never experienced a sunset in his long life, stared in awe at the sight, admiring the tangerine tints weaving with the Byzantium purples, with streaks of ruby littering the sky, as the sun began to hide behind the horizon, beyond the never-ending stretch of sea. This day was a marvel; Lugia had met a wonderful friend, as much of a misfit as he was, and he had experienced his first sunset. But he knew that this day would have to end eventually.

As the sky began to turn a murky indigo, Lugia set off back home, leaving his new-found friend behind him. He crossed the vast expanse of the ocean, watching the scattering waves reflecting the twinkle of the stars overhead. That day was a day he would never be able to forget. Especially when he would enter the deep underwater grotto and discover it to be empty, devoid of his mother.

He waited for his mother to come back, thinking that she had just gone to hunt for Tentacruel and Seakings to feed upon. And so he waited for days. Those days turned into weeks, and he began to realise that she went looking for him. Weeks turned to months; if he stayed put, she would eventually come back. Months became years. Years became decades, which then became centuries.

And still no sign of his mother.


	12. Chapter 11: The Guardian of the Skies

**Chapter Eleven: The Guardian of the Skies**

The town of Ecruteak had not always been the home to the mystical phoenix, Ho-Oh. No, Ho-Oh only sought to temporarily take residence upon the rooftop of one of the temples, until she could figure out a possible means of permanent survival. Ho-Oh was young, and running from a sort of danger that terrified her tremendously. From where she had initially originated from, she was the victim of Pokémon poachers, who sought to capture her and keep her as a prize, a mere trophy. However, she did not know of her enemy; as far as she was concerned, her only enemy was confusion, and her lack of knowledge as to what was happening.

At least twenty years before Ho-Oh became branded the "Guardian of the Skies"; she had lived on mountaintops in a perilous area that brought about constant blistering winds and the infernal scorching heat of the sun; far from the humble town of Ecruteak.  
Her nest resided high on the craggy cliffs, sitting on the edge, right next to the steep drop of the bluff. Most of the mountainsides had sharp, vertical plunges, smooth cliff faces with nought a crevice or a fracture in the fluent flatness of the precipice's border. The sky directly above was forever cloudless, and rain hadn't streamed from the firmament in centuries. This was evident by the splintered and arid ground at the base of the mountains. This sort of environment suited Ho-Oh just fine.

She didn't know where she came from, or how she came to be; her first memory was of awaking in the smouldering cinders of what was left of a flaming inferno. Any event that happened before that, the majestic phoenix had no recollection of. She had sauntered across the lands, trying to find a way to survive, and had accidentally stumbled across the barren wasteland, which she decided to call home, and which would remain her home until she would be driven out by the same poachers that had first approached her.

It was at least 5 to 10 years following her discovery of her desert dwelling when the men had tracked her down. They watched her for weeks, observing her movements, and the patterns of her lifestyle, just as they had done previously. They already knew how she acted, but something went wrong, and the bird became aware of their presence. When they had tried to hastily capture her, she went on a vehement rampage, spreading her fire onto all forms of life. The poachers had lost three men that day. Whilst the trees were burning avidly, thick plumes of eye-watering smoke replaced the pure air. In the confusion of the havoc being caused, and the blinding destruction being thrust upon the environment, one of the men accidentally let his arrow fly into the smoking inferno.

That arrow sped through the murky black air, and the tip embedded itself into the breast of the elegant bird, piercing through the thick muscles that enveloped the beasts' fast-paced heart. Ho-Oh's heart immediately ceased to work, and within minutes, she was lying on the ground, her breathing heavy and shallow. Just moments before she had died, her feathers spontaneously combusted, and were flaring intensely. Large, bright flames sparked and flickered on the equally bright feathers. They sizzled and sputtered as they burned.

It was only when the flames had completely engulfed the mystical phoenix-Pokémon that the bird had passed. Her lungs burned as the fire had started singeing through the skin and into its organs.

The men were still fumbling their way through the fiery inferno that was surrounding them, trying to find their way out of this conflagrating maze. Only after the fires had ceased did they realise their terrible accident that cost them a one-of-a-kind Pokémon.

But of course, Ho-Oh remembered none of this. She only remembered waking up in the smouldering embers and the scattered ash in an austere, desolate field, with burnt lumps of blackened tree carcasses scattering the ground. She did not remember as the metal head of the arrow penetrate her heart; she did not remember the selfish lust the men had at the sight of her, and their plot to capture her for their own greedy desires. She remembered none of that.

These men had given up all hope when they saw the burning carcass of Ho-Oh; they thought that they had killed her. However, when they heard rumours of a golden bird whose feathers glowed with the colours of the rainbow under the ardent gaze of the sun. The tales all agreed that this strange bird was situated in the rough, barren desert, just east of a volcanic town. These men spent years travelling to the land of Hoenn, grasping onto the simple tales of those rumours with tiny specks of hope. This brought them to survey every movement of the magical bird for weeks on end. They wanted to know their prey as well as possible so that the next time, they would not botch the job again.

Hiding behind large weather-beaten boulders, they sat in the dead of night, waiting until the bird would finally fall asleep. With the sun gone, the bitter air nipped at their skin. An icy wind swept through the canyon, whistling between the rocky formations. One of the men exhaled a staccato'd whistle, signalling that they move out to their positions.

They climbed for a few hours over a rough, fractured wall of the mountain, using the rocks that sharply jutted out as footholds. They finally reached the vicinity of Ho-Oh's territory at dawn, when a small sliver of the sun eagerly peeked over the top of the rugged landscape. The bird would awaken in a just a few hours, so they had to work quickly to prepare themselves.

Suddenly, one of the men stepped on a loose patch of rock, and stumbled towards the edge, not quite being able to find any balance on his feet. The others turned their heads and their breaths were caught in their throat. One by one, they slowly turned to the sleeping bird, anticipating the opening of its eyes. Then came a scream, as the man fell over the side of the cliff, his shrieks becoming faint. A dull, mellifluous thud was heard, and the others felt their stomachs lurching at the sickening sound.

At the sound of the thud, Ho-Oh's eyes snapped open, and the crown of curled feathers atop its head sprang upright. It swivelled its head towards the shallow breathing of the people only a few feet from the nest, and her black-rimmed eyes widened. Almost immediately, her wings launched the bird upwards, and she quickly escaped. The men attempted to throw a thickly weaved net over her, but it barely scraped against her long tail.

Curses erupted from their mouths. Another foiled attempt at capturing the mystical and magical Ho-Oh.  
For years, the bird roamed the lands, searching for a safe place to settle down. She stopped only when it was absolutely necessary, and one of those occasions was when she stopped atop the ornate roof of the Tin Tower. Whilst there, she was offered food, and shelter, and was begged by the kinder souls of the human race to stay. She accepted their offer, knowing that she would be safe with these people.

To this day, Ho-Oh remains the mascot for Ecruteak town; but she is always on the lookout for danger. She is always suspecting...


	13. Chapter12:The Time Traveller

**Chapter Twelve: The Time Traveller **

In a gloomy, desolate field, filled with the withering skeletons of trees and the gaunt, sunken blades of tall grass that hunched over, shaking lifelessly in the wind, there was a large circle of dusty emptiness. The circle was about 3 metres across, and nothing grew in that anomalous circle of dirt. However, in the centre of the ring lay scattered footprints and a spray of lifeless, shrivelled flowers, strewn across messily. Those flowers supplied the only colour –dull and insipid as it may be- to this grey atmosphere.

In this depressing ring, every few years or so, something remarkable happens. For a few moments, a tiny sparkle appears in this bleak district, glittering with dappled specks of the rainbow. That minute glint then takes the form of a petite fairy-like thing. It always does the same thing when it first appears: look around the grey area with a melancholic look plastered over its face. It is always thinking of what a shame it is that this once beautiful meadow is constantly tainted by the iron hand of Weavile, an evil dictator that had taken control of the once peaceful, and once lustrous pasture. And one night, it did something that would change the Pokémon world completely.

The wisps of drooping grass that surrounded the dirt circle started brightening into a verdant emerald hue, and straightening upright. Tiny wildflowers of an assortment of colours pushed their vibrant heads through the loose soil. Soon, the colour had begun to spread throughout the field, and even the wasted frames of the dead trees started producing thick, abundant bunches of leaves. The smell of honey-suckle and orchids -and many other flora- wafted through the air on a pleasant breeze.

The green fairy flitted its tiny, transparent wings nervously. It knew that Weavile's scouts would have noticed the flourished rebirth of the meadow, and, knowing their speed and loyalty to their malevolent leader, Weavile would know of Celebi's return by now. The fairy knew that it had only moments to act before being ambushed by the dark Pokémon and his criminal minions.

Celebi moved its diminutive wings with ferocious speed, and sped towards an ancient, colossal oak tree, which was the only thing that still had not been affected by the power of the fairy. Its large branches stretched out several feet in each direction, and were emaciated with the evilness that surrounded it. Large slashes were embedded into the body of the tree, and syrupy, yellow amber oozed out of the deep, tender gashes.

Bright blue eyes were filled with tears that twinkled under the half-moon that hung right above the meadow. It placed a delicate, three-fingered hand upon the course trunk and closed its eyes, spilling the tears from them. Those tears slid down the Pokémon's pale green face, and splattered softly on the dusty ground below. The knobbly roots that were peeking out from the ground slithered towards the source of moisture. When the tips of the twisted roots touched the fallen tears, they distorted into a glowing silver colour, as if turning to a dazzling metal. The steel coating spread further up the length of the roots, and up the abrasive body of the gigantic tree. The silver finally stopped at the very end of the extended lengths of the interweaving branches. Small buds appeared over the span of the boughs, and they unfurled into wide leaves that shrouded the haggardly twisted limbs, scattering away the idea that this tree was once a visual burden to the environment. The ancient tree stood proudly in the field of lush green.

The tiny green fairy didn't notice the wisps of mists billowing across the ground, slowly thickening and engulfing the entire meadow, until the mist became thick, white smog. Within seconds, a dense fog had engulfed the atmosphere, so heavy that the Celebi could not even see the coarse texture of the tree that was right in front of it. Quick rushing movements resonated as countless invisible creatures dashed through the tall grass. The sound of clinking claws rung out. The enemy had the fairy surrounded.

Celebi was expecting this ambush, and it closed its eyes in concentration. A translucent shield surrounded it, creating a Safeguard that would repel the physical attacks of Weavile's minions. The fairy could see the black shapes of the swift Sneasels as they rushed through the grass. Quickly, they formed a circle around the steel-like tree, and clicked their razor sharp claws menacingly. Even though the pale green creature was outnumbered by over a dozen to one, its confidence was brimming. Focusing, it whipped up a storm of leaves, which blew in the direction of its enemies, blinding them for a few moments, as Celebi flittered its tiny wings to get away.

But the thin, black creatures penetrated through this tactical defensive move with their sharp claws, slicing through the airborne foliage. They were soon on the tail of the invading Pokémon, when it suddenly stopped, at the appearance of a slender, black beast with a deep red crown cut cleanly atop its cat-like head. It cackled threateningly, warning its foe with a snap of its talons. Weavile.

It was the only Weavile in the group. He had this privilege because he had obtained a mystical item that allowed him to evolve into a more terrifying creature than Sneasel. The item was a row of knuckles, with whetted claws that peaked into a piercing point, called a Razor Claw. No Sneasel dared to question the ways of Weavile, not when they knew that he could not be beaten.

"Oh, hello Celebi," Weavile guffawed, followed by a chorus of laughter from its army of Sneasels. "What brings you here, to _my_ field of all places?"

Celebi shifted nervously, surrounded by hundreds of shining blades. "You know why I'm here. I want to claim this land back. I want what is mine." Its voice quivered slightly at first, and the bottle green forest sentinel hunched over, but began to regain its posture as the intimidation of those claws wore off. "This meadow is mine. The Pokémon that live here are mine to care for."

"Oh... Really?" Weavile laughed, stepping towards the Pokémon standing before it. "And why would I want to give you _my_ home and _my_ land?"

"Because the ancient edict states that this is mine. As long as the tree continues to live, this is my property."

"But the tree _is_ dead. Don't you see all the dead limbs, so empty and lifeless without its leaves?" Weavile, while still glaring at the fairy, moved its hand off to the side, indicating to the gigantic, silver tree behind it that was voluptuous and flourishing with dazzling leaves. The Sneasels that had seen the tree shifted uneasily.

"What? You mean that tree over there with the leaves?" Celebi said with a smirk. That tree was the only thing that proved Celebi's heritage and property. As long as it was still alive, Celebi could maintain control over all vegetation.

Weavile turned, and then roared angrily, pouncing onto the Celebi, waving its talons at the tiny, fragile-looking creature. "Damn you!" Wildly and blindly, it clumsily scratched at the fairy Pokémon, who easily dodged these sloppy, exasperated attempts.

The Celebi's bright eyes shone magnificently, as it summoned the powers of the thriving nature from all around it. Vines snaked upwards, flailing about, latching onto enemies, twisting around their limbs; strangling. One particularly thick vine stealthily meandered its way up the malevolent Weavile's clawed leg, unnoticed by the creature that was attempting to hack through the thick barrier of Celebi's Safeguard. The vine crept slowly, along the smooth contours of the dark Pokémon's muscles, sliding so gently. The liana grasped Weavile's limbs, tugging firmly. Only then did he realise that he was being held by the vine.

Weavile gasped in surprise as he saw himself restrained. "No..." he whispered. "How... How could this be?"

"This is MY territory!" Celebi bellowed. All the struggling Sneasels flinched at the sharp tone of its voice. "And I'll make sure this conflict never happens again."

The fairy conjured up a wind and dozens of razor sharp leaves, performing its Razor Leaf attack. The leaves were controlled by accurate precision, and a haunting _thump_ sounded as Weavile's head plummeted to the ground, smearing thick, purple blood across the blades of emerald grass. The headless body was still held by the vines, as if it were a puppet. Violet blood oozed from the gaping hole of its throat, dripping into the black fur, sticking the down together into dirty chunks.

Celebi turned and drifted back to the dirt circle. The dead Weavile's minions stared in shock horror at the gruesome scene, and watched as the fairy disappeared in a flash, leaving falling sparkles in its place. The sparkles fell to the ground and transformed into a vibrant spray of flowers.

The moment Celebi disappeared, the vines loosened on the minions of the fallen Weavile. They ran.

The meadow was Celebi's, and it would fight anyone who dared to take it away from it.


	14. Chapter13: The Deity of Rock

**Chapter Thirteen: The Deity of Rock**

The world was once a wasteland; a flat, deserted wasteland. It wasn't always so mountainous, and covered in chaotic rocky ridges. The land had once been flat, as far as the eye could see, with nary a ridge or rock in sight. When the ancient deity, Regigigas, created the sub-god of rock, this all changed.

Around a blazing fire that roared and flickered in the blistering darkness that surrounded it, people were dancing wildly. They swayed with the thick, hollow beats of drums made from the skulls of Nidoking. Their tanned legs collided with the dusty ground with the beat of the ancient music, intensifying the mighty boom that rhythmically sounded. Brown skin, decorated with the pale line of paint, images drawn across their rippling muscles, cracking as their bodies twisted and turned. The women were chanting, singing, shrieking out incoherent words, swaying their hips. The men moved with grace, holding sharpened spears and daggers-weapons made from the bones of Tauros and Kabutops-, their dance reflecting their hunting style. They stepped in unison; each a mirror image of the other.

As the fire spat and hissed, and as the drumming deepened, a seemingly frail and withered body moved forwards. Sunken eyes stared intently at the fire, gazing with a longing notion etched behind them. As the person parted their cracked lips to reveal a toothless mouth, all music and dancing strengthened; the women were howling at the top of their lungs, whilst the men were slashing at the air with their weapons. The toothless individual garbled what seemed to be unintelligible phrases, waving her arms. Her right hand opened, and a spray of dust flew into the fire.

The roaring inferno became a vivid emerald colour, and the dancing and hollering figures had to keep themselves from flinching at such magic.

The old woman said some more seemingly random expressions. Then she started chanting along with the other women, her hoarse voice the loudest. The dancing and singing lasted until the first rays of light spread across the thousands of footprints embedded into the sand. By now, the once huge fire was a mound of smouldering embers. The voices of all the women were quite husky. The men were fatigued, and their movements showed it –they dragged their legs across the sand, and were holding their spears at waist height.

What were these savages praying for? What was the purpose of this night of screaming and wild movements?

A rumble sounded from the ground beneath them, and deep fissures appeared. The dying embers were enveloped within the confines of the ridges in the ground. The ground was swallowing up anything that it could drag down into the black, shadowy depths.

From the fissures emerged a being that seemed at one with the rocky ridges. Completely made of rock, this creature stepped its thick, bulky legs onto the sand. Being carved from the rock that rested well below the surface of the ground, this creature was the very essence of the earth, made from thick clay that had hardened over centuries. An indestructible rock-being. Seven dots, forming a 'H' on the creatures otherwise plain face, looked around, never blinking as they surveyed the flat landscape.

The creature was sent from the almighty Regigigas to protect this tribe from their enemies. They had prayed for some sort of protection, and upon seeing this burly Pokémon, they had wrongly assumed that this was their gift. Imagine their surprise when the creature ignored their commands and walked towards the horizon.

When it was far enough from the tribe's settlement, it moved its rocky arms and punched the ground with great strength. The rocks sprang up and seemed to multiply. And with crafty hands, this being of rock created the first mountains, that circled the settlement, almost like the walls of a fortress.

But the creature would not stop at the completion of its task. It kept on walking, and beating its arms into the ground, forming mountain ranges that stretched on for many miles. Humans saw the destruction that this creature had brought upon them, and they fought it, sealing it within a cavern in the sand dunes from whence it came from. It is said that if this creature is ever released from its rocky prison, grave danger will follow the earth. Regirock is not to be taken lightly, it is said.


	15. Chapter 14: The Deity of Ice

**Chapter 14: The Deity of Ice**

Snowpoint City is a place crowned with snow, from its icy, frozen shore to the high peaks of Mt. Coronet. The air there is deathly freezing, sending icy chills into the very depths of unsuspecting lungs. In Snowpoint, snow covered once green meadows, with the remains of immobile Pokémon and solid shrubbery, frozen in place. Frozen in time, like statues.

A figure trudged through the snow, stumbling as her feet, knee deep in the snow, refused to move due to exhaustion. Her hair was soaked, and hardening from the icy conditions, forming a firm, black crown atop her head. Her Persian-hide gloves were of no use to her, as they were also saturated with the cold dampness of the snow surrounding her. The girl was the last remaining member of her party, and she doubted if she would ever return to her accursed town. But she had to try. There would be no use in giving up, she knew this much. She had gone too far.

And what would become of her reputation if she were to give up now? She, Tama K'yoku, was one of the greatest warriors that had ever graced the town of Silverwing. She remembered her home as it once was, lush, rolling hills, with abundant pastures filled with hundreds of plump, pink Miltank. The mountains of Mt. Coronet were once filled with the homes of Spearow, Skarmory, Tauros and so many more. There were even rumours of magnificent Pokémon with mystical powers. However, with the invasion of the snow, those magnificent Pokémon were surely gone.  
She also remembered the Butterfree that roamed the fields, flapping their wings delicately, spreading their silver dust across the multitude of flowers of all colours. It was the Butterfree and their enchanting powder that gave Silverwing its name. But that was all gone now; the Butterfree, the silver pollen that sparkled perfectly, the fields of flowers. Chased away by the vile, white slush that surrounded the young warrior.

Tama K'yoku was one of the five warriors sent by the snow-covered town of Silverwing. But she was the only one left. One had fallen into the deep pit of a hidden crevasse. Another had been swept away by the harsh, blistering wind, carried off to some unknown place far, far away. The other two had perished in their sleep, the blood in their veins frozen solid. Tama had no choice but to continue on her perilous journey. She had to succeed.

She pushed herself, pulling her aching legs through the thick carpet of snow. Her entire body was exhausted to the point of collapsing. It had been days since she last rested and ate; not being able to find shelter in this unfamiliar landscape that she had lived in since birth. No food was available to her. All the berry bushes had either withered and decayed, or froze into crystallised statues, characterising the deathly grip of the brutal snow. Pokémon were impossible to find. They were driven from the area once the north wind had changed its course, bringing with it the first specks of snow. The only that remained were the few foolish creatures that were doomed to die, regardless of how hard they tried to avoid it, and the ones that were a reminder of their foolishness, lying still, motionless, their bodies so well preserved from the ice that they appeared asleep.

The scenery looked all the same to the young girl. She couldn't be sure if she wasn't just walking in circles. If she stopped for just one moment, her tracks would be covered by the ever-constant downfall of snow, deceiving her sense of direction. All the trees were capped with snow, looking identical in every way possible. This was a labyrinth where the ominous claws of icy death loomed overhead. It was only when she finally approached the elevated peaks of Mt. Coronet did the girl find any clue of what could have caused this abominable weather change.

Large, gaping, square holes appeared almost randomly in the snow, as if caused by small pyramids had been plunged tip-down into the pale ground. Tama knew a lot about Pokémon -she had to, if she wanted to be a worthy warrior- and these were tracks that were unfamiliar to her. They were not the tracks of Stantler, or Persian, or even Manectric. They were surely the tracks of whatever foul beast had caused this icy mess. Tama knew she had to move quickly before the ever-flowing snow covered the tracks completely.

Tama climbed up the icy slopes of the steep mountain that loomed eerily over her. The unusual footsteps had led her to the base of Mt. Coronet. Her ambition burned as much as her muscles ached, but she forced herself to keep going, despite the extreme fatigue that was so close to claiming her. If she were to give up now, she would forever doom her village with this devastating curse. Besides, she was much too proud to give up. She was the only female in her village that was also a warrior. That meant she had to prove herself to the village elders to show that women were capable of doing the tasks of men.

The higher she climbed, the heavier the air felt around her, almost crushing her fragile lungs. She climbed until she could climb no longer, and collapsed, unconscious, in a heap in the soft carpet of powdery white. There she lay, resting underneath the snow that was piling up over her. There she lay, unnoticed by the world surrounding her.

She awoke, some hours later. Her rest had rejuvenated her, but with a price; her left leg was immobile, and a few of her fingers had rotted inside her gloves, frozen completely. Her nose was blackened, so close to falling off. She didn't know about her nose, though. And even if she did, it wouldn't have bothered her. Her job was to destroy whatever had overflowed her world with snow. She would continue on until her life escaped her. That was her duty. So, on she continued, pulling her now-useless frostbitten leg behind her. The trek was much more difficult now, as she only had half her normal amount of fingers to grip onto the rocks to pull herself up. Her persistence led her towards the beast that did this to her; the beast that crippled her.

She crawled until she found a cavern, an entrance of about 20 feet in height and length. The inside was black and lifeless. The girl suspected that the beast was inside this cave, as the closer she got to the cave, the colder it got. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees with each step. Her pride overtook all feelings of unsureness and terror as she ploughed through the thick snow that reached up to her waist. Her entire body was too numb to now feel the ache that would have burned through her muscles.

The inside of the cave was eerie and of a deathly cold temperature. Icicles hung from the ceiling that loomed overhead, their sharp points all too menacing, even for the bravest soul. Ice encrusted rocks were scattered across the slippery black cavern floor. The cavern diminished in size as the girl stumbled further into its cavity. It shrunk in size, turning into a narrow corridor that was almost impossible to manoeuvre through as icy stalactites plunged from the low ceiling, and stalagmites rose from the ground. The ground was course and craggy, and the young warrior constantly tripped. She kept tumbling over, supported only by one leg, but yet, never gave up on her journey. She stumbled on until it seemed that the corridor ended, leading into an open room that had been hollowed out in the centre of the mountain. The room stretched out for miles, and appeared to be quite recent; the stalactites that hung from the ceiling were invisible from the girl's view. This room was less cluttered and chaotic than the passageway that led to it. The only features were six rocks placed neatly in a circle formation. In the middle of the circle, was a gigantic ice statue. Its crystallised form was cut like a diamond, with seven yellow dots on what could be presumed as its face, in the shape of a cross.

Tama growled, her face scrunching into a grimace. Her three working fingers on her right hand gripped the handle of her Kabutops-bladed scimitar. As she hobbled towards the strange diamond-like creature, she withdrew her weapon from her scabbard. With her leg dragging along behind her, and her blade at the ready, she narrowed her eyes and screamed at the beast. It stood on upturned pyramids, and for a brief moment, the screaming warrior wondered how it could have balanced so well on the tiny pinpricks that were its feet.

The yellow dots glimmered and shone brightly, and it was evident that the creature had awoken and had noticed the intruder. And yet, it didn't move. It didn't even flinch when the girl passed through the boundaries of the rock circle formation, pouncing ungracefully and quite painfully into the air, sword at the ready. The blade flashed in the pale, glowing light that radiated from the crystal beasts' body.

The deadly blade made impact with the diamond body of the creature, but shattered, leaving nought a mark on the smooth, glistening surface. A disgruntled shriek of surprise and annoyance sounded from the girls' mouth as she fell to the ground in a chaotic heap. She was trembling there on the ground, finally feeling the aching pain that gnawed at her blackened features, and feeling the shame of defeat. She didn't know what else she could do; if her weapon –a blade taken from the mighty claw of the ancient Pokémon, Kabutops- then what else could she do in her withered state?

Lying there, at the upturned pyramid feet of the glass Pokémon, she closed her eyes, fatigue finally taking its toll on her. She had shamed her tribe, and was unable to break the curse. Centuries later, the beast migrated to another place, to be locked away for good. But the damage it had caused was enough to forever change Silverwing into Snowpoint.


	16. Chapter 15: The Deity of Metal

**Chapter 15: The Deity of Metal**

A wild Onix groaned, thrashing its' rocky, snake-like body about, the boulders that made up its body bashing brutally into the solid cliff face. Rocks crumble from the dent, falling heavily. The angered Pokémon grunted and moaned, its eyes tightly shut. Extreme pain was washing over it, and each heartbeat resonated throughout its body, passing on a penetrating stab through its' heart. The Pokémon was shaking violently, its great, grey body heaving as it breathed in shallow breaths, its vacant lungs screaming for more air. The rock snake blindly manoeuvred through the rock-strewn valley, its actions unsteady and inconstant. With its eyes clenched so, it couldn't see what it was doing to the landscape, nor could it see the damage it was doing to itself; chunks of its body had fallen away, with purple blood coating the craggy body, and the chaotic environment.

Watching from above, looking over the edge of the cliff, stood a large, bulky creature. Its exterior was smooth to the touch, glossy and reflective. A brilliant metallic silver, the kind that men mined their whole lives for a single nugget. This being was crafted from a metal so obscure, so sporadic that only the God of all Pokémon was able to obtain it. And with the exceptional metal, the being was crafted. Crafted by its own brother, and the only one of its likeliness that it had ever had contact with, despite its' vast explorations of the land. Crafted by its _master_.

The metallic creature appeared to be futuristic, something not of this world. Alien, if anything. And as it gazed upon the withering creature with great interest, it raised its surprisingly flexible arms above its head, and the seven red dots on its face brightened and flashed. The sky burst into a sudden explosion of colour –a brilliant steel shade spark that shone and twinkled under the brightness of the full moon.

The steel essence flowed in a graceful current down towards the writhing Onix, and swirled fluidly around the creature, as if making a whirlpool of the substance. As far as one could tell, the silver matter was a beautiful flowing liquid, suspended in air. And as the silver essence surged through the air, it began to release dainty droplets that fell onto the pained Pokémon, slowly enveloping it with blotches of the metallic sheen. The rain seemed to soothe the hurt creature, but it didn't notice the sizzling steam that scattered itself in the cool breeze that swept the land. The silver paint hardened, forming a thick, protective shell around the creature as the Pokémon convulsed and shuddered.

The horn on its forehead diminished, until the surface was simply filled with craggy ridges, much like the texture on the rest of its body. Although, three pairs of horns sprouted up from various lengths of its body. The Onix screeched. But it wasn't an Onix anymore. This new creature –if it could be called a creature anymore- was an abomination to life itself, it seemed. Made of metal, it didn't seem possible that any Pokémon could be created from this kind of material.

Bathed in the pale moonlight, the Pokémon turned its head to look at its new body, and grumbled unsurely at what it saw. But it was in too much pain to recognise any suitable reaction. Instead, it thrashed about, smashing its now-unbreakable body against the canyon walls. But the crystal-esque surface of its body made the horrendous sight one to behold.

The Pokémon that stood on the cliff edge lowered its bulky arms, the flashing of the dots subsiding. Its mission was complete. Master would be pleased. Yes, very pleased indeed. It turned and clomped away, into the dense forestry that sprung up from the very edges of the cliff.

The Onix –not quite an Onix anymore, something altogether new- felt a surreal strength pulsating through its metallic body, and it slithered blindly down the forged path that winded down the middle of the canyon. At the end of the hollowed out road that rested on the floor of the canyon, was a quaint mountain town, where the villagers aided the Pokémon, and in return, were supported by the Pokémon. Those two species correlated with one another, leaning on each other when the time called for it.

Unbeknownst to the small village, the giant steel encrusted snake was rumbling towards them at breakneck speed. The ones who hadn't awoken from the earth-shattering quakes caused by the convulsing Pokémon as it transformed (or would evolved be a more appropriate word?) were now being woken from the deafening rumbling of steel crushing rock. Little did they know of the danger slithering towards them at staggering speed. But they knew that danger was approaching. They didn't know what, but it didn't stop them from preparing themselves. At the thunderous sound of disturbance, a citizen proceeded to hit a large bell with

In the centre of the village, atop a shrine, was a large gong made of the hardest bronze. The metal had been foraged for by Rhydon, forged from the fires of Houndoom, intricately shaped by the bulky, yet delicate hands of Machoke. They had made it for the humans, and when it sounded, the Pokémon were to come to their aid. At the thunderous sound of disturbance, a citizen proceeded to hit a large object with a heavy mallet, the impact reverberating up his arms, through his body. A dull, hollow moan erupted from the object, and it echoed throughout the valley.

The ears of Manectric, Persian, Kangaskhan and various other Pokémon pricked up, and many of the Pokémon in the area flocked to the village. The gong was only to be struck in the event of an emergency. But by the time any had arrived to the tiny village, the mutated Pokémon had already begun thrashing about, destroying buildings, pulverising people. Blood was spread across the ground, mixing with the dirt to create a thick, black mud. Immediately, a swarm of Pikachu fired paralysing volts of electricity at the beast.

Lurking not far from the village, camouflaged by the dense forest and the black of night, a large steel embodiment gazed in awe at the destruction that its mutation had caused. Would master be proud? The being thought so. But first it had to get rid of the enemies trying to stop its creation. Lifting its heavy arms in the air, the red dots on its shiny and otherwise lifeless face flashed and twinkled wildly. Once again, the sky flashed, a silver colour pulsating throughout the atmosphere, and a liquid stream of iron flowed towards the sizzling jolts of electricity that were plummeting towards the rogue beast.

The jolts stopped in midair, trembling and crackling, the metallic liquid embracing the energy. Shuddering for a few moments, the jolts of electricity mutated and opened a newly made eye. These new creation consisted of a sphere of iron, with a magnet on either side. Each of them had only one eye, that blinked and swivelled in all directions, attempting to make sense of this chaotic confusion.

In the midst of all this confusion, the newly made Pokémon joined in on firing attacks, they launched attacks at any opponent they could find, not knowing who was an enemy and who was an ally. The number of these new creatures grew as the other electric Pokémon kept firing their electric attacks.

Scyther caught in the chaos were also covered in the silver muck, transforming into a totally new species. Fearow had their wings turned to steel. The psychic attacks of the assaulting Kadabra were turned into metal arms that threw themselves at opponents without mercy.

Anything caught in the crossfire was transformed. Save for the humans, who were turned into steel statues, their frightened expressions lit up by the myriad of strikes the Pokémon were shooting at each other. The wild Pokémon saw the futility of their assistance, and one by one, retreated back into the shadows of the mountainous canyons. The transformed Pokémon, creatures carved from the strongest of metals, they roamed the site, contemplating their existence. They were completely void of any memories, they knew nothing of themselves. So, they were left to roam the lands, travelling across seas, into other countries, breeding with other Pokémon to keep their species alive.

The great metal creature with the flashing dots was never seen again. It is rumoured that it was imprisoned for creating such _monsters_, for destroying the natural order of nature. For tainting the God's perfection of life.  
Other rumours speculate that this creature was only acting under the orders of the God, to assist in creating new life, new variety.

But, who knows.


	17. Chapter 16:The Hidden Girl

**Chapter 16- The Hidden Girl**

Here I am, can you see me? Can you see as I soar through the skies, riding on a zephyr? No, your eyes can't possibly fathom the speed at which I fly. I am simply a mirage, a trick of the mind. You see, I simply do not exist. I am a part of your mind, hallucinating at the mere lustful thought of acquiring a trophy such as I.

That is to say, you can never truly see me. You can never truly own me. I am my own free self. And with that, I take to the skies, flying over the clouds. On the odd occasion that I allow myself to be seen, your puny mind can't fathom my great speeds. My sparkling down reflects the light from all angles. You get blinded as I speed past, like something out of this world.

When I fly, I am free. I am in control. I am myself. But you, you ignorant humans, you don't understand my place in the world. You assume I only exist to be yours. Well, let me show you just how wrong you are.

My brother and I were born from the same egg. This egg was hidden deep in the forest of Mirage Island. Who our mother was, we cannot say. It is a mystery even to us. But I suspect that our mother was in fact the island. It is because of the nature of the island that we Lati's are so sporadic and unusual. We are mirages. We are delusions. Fantasies. Just like Mirage Island, we are impossible to fully comprehend and locate.

After hatching, my brother instantly flew away. I haven't seen him since, nor do I care about him. We went our separate ways, with our own goals and aspirations. With our own interpretations of what it means to be free. All I remember is that he flew to the east, hastily. Whilst he was off exploring the world, I roosted in the boughs of the Kelpsy trees on Mirage Island, contemplating my existence. I knew not what I wanted from this life. It was only several decades later that I left the island, never to return there again. I felt my time there had come to an end, that I had overstayed my welcoming. I knew all the Pokémon were constantly wary of me. The Wynaut, the sole inhabitants of the island avoided me whenever possible.

Although I never conversed with them, I heard the rumours they sprouted. One strange rumour caught my attention. Shortly after my hatching, the Wynaut talked of a strange creature, oddly shaped such as I. Its entire body was patterned with the symbol that was painted on my breast. A blue triangle. It flew to the island on gentle, oblique wings, like puffs of clouds floating by. It found the egg inhabited by my brother and I in a small clearing, and decided to incubate it. As soon as the first cracks began to appear, the strange and mysterious creature flew off.

I spent those lonely decades on the island, perhaps waiting for the return of this creature. But it never came. So I decided to look for it. Which leads me to where I am now. Sendoff Spring. It is said that this is a place of complete and utter peace and tranquillity. Where life goes undisturbed, where one can rest and seek refuge from humans. This serene landscape was wholly void of humans. They were forbidden from this sanctuary, it was a rite that had been passed on since the creation of the other world. It was here that Pokémon were _truly_ safe from the wicked deeds of humans. And a place the mysterious Pokémon was most likely to be veiled.

I sat in the centre of the lake, floating across the waters surface. And from that position, I never moved. I was never motivated to do anything, except wait. For many a year, I sat in wait. I was patient. But I noticed the most peculiar thing.

Dusknoir was the guardian of the entrance to Turnback Cave. It was his job to ensure that no one would enter the cave. He was the puppeteer that was the evil God's right-hand man. And he began stalking me. He flitted through the trees, eyeing me dangerously. He was suspicious of me. And in retaliation, I was wary of him. Who could ever trust the henchman of the nefarious and twisted Giratina? Only the truly insane could possibly have any faith in one who has sold their soul to malevolence.

One day, the puppeteer approached me. He floated above the surface of the tranquil mere, his eyes never once leaving me, and mine never leaving him. He hovered where he was for some time, never blinking, staring maliciously.

He growled and spoke, "For too long, you have rested. You have overstayed your welcome. You must leave now."

I closed my eyes, and showed no intent of wanting to leave.

I felt a blow to my head, a dull ache that resonated and pulsated. I flinched, wincing, crying out in pain.

"Why are you here?" roared the immoral creature.

When I did not answer, he struck again. Countless times, he struck me. But I did not move from my position, as beaten and bruised as I was. I would stay here, and wait for the creature to come to me. I felt it was inevitable that such a creature would someday find its way to such a place.

"You know that symbol on your breast? The blue triangle?" Dusknoir sneered once he had finished beating me. My eyes widened, my heart rate quickened. "Many years before you arrived here, a Pokémon patterned with that symbol rested in this holy place. But shortly after, humans invaded. A war waged, and the creature was caught in the turmoil. And do you know what the foolish beast did?"

I stared at the single red eye of the demented Pokémon, awaiting an answer so vital and significant. It felt as if my whole reason for existence was to hear the next few words this being would say.

"It went inside the cave," the ghost continued. There was a sick, twisted sound of amusement in his voice. "And do you know what happens to those who venture into the cave?"

I knew.

Sometimes, creatures would be foolish enough to try to trick Dusknoir into distraction, and sneak their way into the cave, in search of any hidden treasures or secrets. But, due to Dusknoir's extraordinary powers, the cave was rigged in such a way that once a Pokémon entered it, the cavern became a never-ending maze, each room leading to one previously visited. The cave moved, it was said. The path one took was always changing, never constant, yet, frequently familiar. One would perish in those caves if it weren't for Dusknoir being able to manipulate the roaming rooms to allow him to find the intruder. And when he found them, they would be plunged into the depths of darkness, into a world that was only told of in hushed whispers. Of a world controlled by the monstrosity of evil, the deity of destruction, Giratina. There, they would be judged, though, never fairly. After that, who knew what happened to the foolish Pokémon.

Despite being so weak and pained from my beating, I lifted my wings, moving them in a flapping motion. Dusknoir had a look of accomplishment on his face, which quickly disappeared once he saw the direction in which I was heading. Anger flashed across his face, and he roared in fury, quickly hovering behind me. But I was too fast. My body was built for speed.

I quickly flew inside the cave, and sped around the rocky surroundings, dodging stalagmites and stalactites. Going from room to room, I quickly became lost. _Good._

I suddenly stopped, resting against a craggy wall of rock, catching my breath. All I had to do was wait.

A few moments passed, and the air began to shimmer as the figure of Dusknoir emerged from a portal that would normally have defied space, but not in a place such as this, where the cave twisted and turned, swapping rooms about.

Dusknoir stared at me, its red eye boring into my mind, probing at my thoughts.

"Just like with the Pokémon you have sought, you will be punished, sent into the purgatory of the other dimension. There, my Master, the great Giratina, will pass judgement on you," Dusknoir said darkly.

"Before you send me, just answer me this," I replied. "What is the name of the Pokémon I am looking for?"

If Dusknoir had a mouth, it would have been grinning widely at that moment. "If I told you, your life would be complete. You would have nothing left to live for. And the Master plans to have you roam the lands for all eternity, looking for this Pokémon. In the great scheme of things, you are surely needed. For what, I do not know."

I growled. I was doomed to spend my whole life searching for the Pokémon that hatched me. For the Pokémon that had some influence over what I am now. The Pokémon that surely had to know what I am.

Dusknoir outstretched his arms, and a dazzling black and purple portal opened up between his grey hands. The portal was a swirling vortex; a black hole that was sucking the essence of my life into a world of nothingness. I was going into a world where my master would be the God of Chaos.

My body elongated, coiled, shrunk as it was pulled into the spinning vortex. The last thing I saw before reaching the Other World was my captor staring with an accomplished look on its face.

What I didn't know, was that once I had disappeared, the evil ghost uttered a single word, the word of the Pokémon I was searching for.

"_Togekiss._"


	18. Chapter 17: The Lonely Warrior

**Chapter 17: The Lonely Warrior**

Shrouded with thick, pale mist, the crown of Mt Pyre was always hidden from view, despite being the tallest structure in the land of Hoenn. The mist was an ever-constant reminder of the secrecy and mystery that revolved in the cold atmosphere of the lonely graveyard.

All knew of the prophecy concerning the two architects of the earth -the creator of land, and the creator of the waters- and of the two orbs that calmed them. If those two orbs were to be separated, the beasts would awaken from their seemingly deathly sleep. Their awakening was said to be when they would begin to undo what they had done. Other myths told of their battle of dominance over land and sea; the winner destroying everything the loser had created.

Of course, none could possibly know what would happen. After all, such a thing had never occurred. Nor was it intended to happen. But such things, such sanctified objects, would never be safe from the prying hands of impious no-gooders. Regardless of how well protected they may be.

The two spheres that bound the two creators to their eternal prison were heavily guarded by three spiritual beings. The shrine keeper –usually a sage or a shaman- kept watch, never sleeping, and as rumour declares, never blinking. Accompanying them would be a wise, aged ninetales. Most folks don't realise the spiritual potential of these mystical foxes. They were born with the curse to curse.

The third guardian never stood guard. Instead, he would always instead be somewhere on the opposite side of Hoenn, frolicking like a child. However, that could be excused, as he was but a child. His steel blue wings jagged into serrated knife-edges. His eyes shone a bright red, constantly eager for each new day. His body built for the impressive speeds at which he flew at, faster than the eye could catch.

He knew not how he came to be, but remembered sharing an egg with one similar to him. But that mattered not to him. He had a destiny he had to fulfil, not that he knew exactly what it was. The ninetales had told him that his place was on the island necropolis. Ninetales had told him of his duty, and where his loyalties should lie: with the protection of the world, for the fortification of justice, for the safeguard of humans and pokémon alike.

It was a cold winter's day when it happened. The air was crisp and sharp; the wind a cold blade of a knife. The sun had hidden itself behind the dense foggy clouds that enveloped the whole of Hoenn. The added mist that surrounded Mt. Pyre guaranteed that the mountaintop was to be blackened, with no beam of light able to make it through the thick fog.

A lonely, solemn laugh echoed throughout the hallowed grounds of the necropolis. Shadows crept across the darkened landscape; black spirits slithering across the sanctified soil, haunting with malicious smiles wrapping around them, stretching off their faces and into the icy air. Shadows never stayed put in this eerie sanctuary. Shadows loved to laugh and torment. Their malicious smiles never once wavering.

However, the particular laugh that sounded on that particular day belonged to one who was not of a spirited or ghostly nature. It belonged to something living, but at the same time, something not of this world. Its deep purple body sharply shaped into pointed peaks, its talons jagged and haggard. Its eyes crystallised. This creature knew no bounds in this surreal yet temporal plane. And it knew no difference from good or evil.

It had only one thought in mind...

Stealthily and nimbly, the brazen creature scaled over the rocky crags, dodging through the scrawny bushes that resembled the atmosphere of this dull place. The shadows that scuttled across the ground evaded the paranormal creature that disturbed their uncomfortable existence.

The creature was just a purple blur to the human eye. And as it approached its obstacle –a human, no less- it leapt past, claws outstretched, at the ready. The sage's simple human senses were too fragile and weak to notice the advancing danger.

It took only a split second for the human to notice the pain, but even then, it was too late. His mouth opened, tongue springing forward to speak words of magic. His skin paled and he fell to his knees, still barely alive.

The elderly ninetales saw and felt the commotion from where it sat patiently at the altar. But she could do nothing to help the meagre human. She knew that she would suffer the same fate, and dread overcame her as she thought of the blue-winged mirage. She had to prevent any destruction that threatened the young child.

As the sage's skin was being shred, ripped from his bones, Ninetales closed her eyes and concentrated on her deep power. It was difficult to concentrate amidst the howls and shrieks resonating throughout the graveyard, but the fox pokémon tried as hard as it was able to. Her white fur stood on end, her many tails swished uncomfortably. A blue aura began to surround it, with fiery sparks crackling around the aura.

The screams subsided, just as Ninetales released a powerful Will-o-Wisp; blue flames soared towards the busy purple pokémon –still hacking away at the deceased human-, engulfing the pokémon in a painful inferno. Shrieking and turning towards the attacking pokémon, it brandished its bloody talons. A snarl crept upon its face as it saw the elegant fox sitting patiently at the altar, waiting for an incoming attack, welcoming anything that may come.

The crystal eyes of the rancid pokémon flashed as the cerulean flames upon its velvet fur burned meticulously, though never singeing the fluff, only giving a permanent tinge of uncomfortable heat. It was burnt, and badly at that. Growling, it took a step forward, flinching slightly as the flames ate away at its flesh, leaving its down untouched.

"If you refuse to surrender, you will perish like that pathetic human," the purple creature sneered, flexing his claws.

"Who are you?" the ninetales asked calmly, disregarding the previous statement.

"You mean to say that you don't know of me and my _achievements_?" the creature sounded truly surprised. But he obviously didn't realise that this island graveyard was well secluded from the outside world. "I am Sableye. I specialize in thievery and assassination. And you, my friend, happen to be in the way of one of my jobs."

Sableye stepped forward, blood still dripping from his brandished claws. He pounced.

Far from the isolated graveyard, in a field filled with flowers that produced such a sweet and friendly aroma, a child pokémon played. It appeared intimidating, but despite its decades of training, it was truly a kind-hearted soul. Its wings were jagged and sharp, made of a substance harder than steel. Its blue down was sleek and flat against its body. And upon his breast was a most peculiar symbol, a red triangle. His foster mother, Ninetales, told him that the triangle was a memento from the one who hatched his egg. But nothing more was mentioned. It was a part of their bargain. He would remain with a home to retreat to -and a _family_, per se- whilst at the same time, he would help guard the two mystical orbs that rested on the peak of Mt. Pyre.

In his mind, he heard a ringing, a bell tolling out for anyone to help. He heard cackles and garbled words. Thuds. Silence.

Immediately, the eon pokémon sprung into the air with such force that trees were pulled from the ground, their branches being plucked from the trunks. But the blue creature gave no notice, as he sped through the skies, ripping through wet, misty clouds. Colours of blue, grey and white distorted together in a blurry smudge. He forced himself to go faster. His body was built for this. He would make it in time...

Blood seeped through the thick fur of Ninetales. Its opponent had also suffered fatal blows. But due to her old age, the most Ninetales could have done was feebly done was dodge, or breathe out weakened embers. Very rarely had she managed to launch a Flamethrower that made any substantial damage to the wicked Sableye. But still, it trudged on, evading attacks every so often, attempting to stall the enemy until the ultimate guardian appeared.

_Ninetales was wandering the grounds of the empty island one bleak day, enjoying light, meditative walk. Her mind was cleared. Then, she sensed something odd, something out of the ordinary. She had experienced most kinds of pokémon auras; after all, she was surrounded by the broken carcasses of them day in and day out. _

_She followed the signal of the energy, followed it until she found a trembling body. Covered with dew, its blue feathers were sodden and filthy with muck. It was a child, a hatchling, frightened and lost. But most of all, alone. He was the only one of his kind. A blue majestic prince, who was born with nary a mother or father. With what purpose was he born? As far as Ninetales could tell, he had no reason to live._

_But being as filled with compassion as she was, Ninetales took pity on the poor soul, and created a purpose for the young pokémon._

_His name is Latios, and he is the key to protecting the world from the two creators colliding with their differences. _

Ninetales' last drops of strength were slipping from her the way sand slips through outstretched fingers. She doubted she would still be standing in another three minutes. She wistfully hoped that her child would be able to make it here in time, before her last breath passes him. But even more, she wanted the child to destroy the horrendous beast before the two spheres create chaos and disorder for the entire world.

But just as she thought he was going to die in vain, a blue smear sped from the heavens, its body colliding with Sableye's. A surprised shriek echoed throughout the mountaintop. It hadn't thought that there might have been another guardian. It was truly that naive that it assumed that the two ancient mystics were the only ones who would be defending the stones. Besides, this titbit if information was missing when his source had met with him just days ago.

_The fool_, Sableye thought to himself. _Can't that wretched Golduck do anything right? Now the entire mission may be in peril because of the lack of that vital information. _

Before Sableye could retaliate, the blue blur, Latios, sped up into the clouds. Moments later, a large glowing sabre shot from the sky, beaming down towards the vile creature of darkness. Sableye looked up, and grinned, pushing its chest upwards, towards the oncoming Luster Purge. The red jewel on its breast glinted and shone. Then something happened that neither of the guardians could fathom.

_Sableye's jewel seems to be its secret weapon,_ Ninetales thought to herself, licking furiously at a wound. _It must be its source of power..._

No matter how many times Latios' psychic attacks flew at the foe, the jewel would just become a vacuum and it would seem as if the attack had never happened. Ninetales assumed that psychic attacks had no effect on the pokémon, since it had been unable to defend itself against the fox's extreme fire attacks.

Latios was now weary, and almost out of strength. Despite his impeccable speed and overused dodging, he had taken a lot of beating, giving none to his enemy.

Sableye sniggered, winking at the two shaking pokémon. Then he recoiled in pain as his flesh burned from the ever-constant blue flame. It was slowly sapping his powers, but he was sure that his demise to the licks of flames would not come before the demise of the two standing in his way of glory. He would be standing in the end, the two orbs in his hands. He would see the deaths of these two.

Latios looked to Ninetales, eyes filled with uncertainty. The fox looked at the burning creature, eyes shining.

"_Latios, it is immune to psychic attacks,"_ Ninetales said telepathically to the blue winged mirage. "_Surely you must have an attack or two that isn't of psychic origin? You must use it. We must work together. This evil must be vanquished._"

Latios understood, and flew up as high as he could; creating a zephyr that caught the purple fiend. It flew with the gust, tumbling down as the wind subsided. Growling, it stood back up, but by then, a flaming Kanji character –dai- crashed into it, sending the beast flying backwards, his purple fur singed and charred. His lungs had swallowed some of the flames, and it ached to breathe. But still, he would not give up. He was stronger than the two of those vile freaks.

Latios was hidden from view, looming over the burnt pokémon, hidden in a cloud so as to hide his shadow and to camouflage itself. He was about to try a move that he had never attempted before. _Dragon Pulse_. It was risky, attempting a move too great to handle. But he owed everything to the broken ninetales. If there were a possibility that he could repay his dept to the fox, then he would do it, despite the deadly consequences.

Floating through the blobs of mist, Latios prepared himself. He could not miss. That would mean total failure for everything they had worked for. Looking for motivation, he stared down at the mangled body of the old man, his blood pooling and drying around him. The pokémon shuddered at the sight of the man's intestines spilling from huge gashes in his flesh. That man was his friend. He was like a father to him.

Latios' eyes gleamed, turning opaque and obscure. In time with his heartbeat, all life surrounding him shook, pulsating as waves of excruciating, ferocious energy throbbed throughout the land. Time moved slowly. Hollow winds echoed solemnly, but no leaves dared move. The shadows that normally patrolled the grounds fled, knowing that danger was afoot.

Sableye moved as quickly as he could, looking upwards. But the sudden pulsation of energy made his head move a fraction with each throb. Before his eyes could widen in fright, before he could draw a breath, before the hairs on his back could stand on end from panic, his life had ended.

His limp body fell to the ground. The blue inferno on his back had extinguished. His crystal eyes shattered, as did the once fearful ruby embedded in his chest.

Ninetales sighed in content, satisfied that the two orbs had been protected. She closed her eyes and pushed hard with her abdomen. Squealing in pain, she kept pushing. Latios flew down beside her and was comforting her, not knowing what was happening.

"Latios," Ninetales said weakly, gasps of breath obscuring her words. "Please look after these treasures. And teach the next in line what it means to be a guardian."

Latios wondered what she meant, until he saw the shell of an egg –covered in a slimy, bloody film- poking through underneath her tail. As soon as it had fully emerged, Ninetales closed her eyes. She looked so peaceful. So content.

Ninetales would live on, never truly dying. Always being reborn. Latios would make sure of that.


	19. Chapter 18: The Submerged World

First of all, I apologise for the time it took for this part to come out. Time just seemed to have slipped by me these last few months.

Secondly, I hope y'all enjoy this super epic long chapter. :)

**Chapter 18: The Submerged World**

_The water is a black abyss, drowned in perfection.  
The water is a depthless void, dead to all creation.  
In the water lies a beast of old.  
In the water lies a God of secrets untold.  
In the water, death shall follow.  
In the water, your heart he shall swallow._

- Anonymous, dated in the 4th century of the Flame.

The sea was once thought to be the passage to the other world; the world of the dead. It was thought that if one did anything to anger the Sea God whilst on a voyage, the mighty beast would rise up and devour them.

The only brave -or foolish- souls that dared to venture over the crashing waves of the oceans were pirates. They brought goods from far off nations, nations some refused to believe the existence of. They made a living by laundering goods, but their greatest wealth came from excited townsfolk, willing to pay anything to hear wild and exhilarating stories of other lands. And so, they told the folk tales of mysterious islands in Johto, guarded by treacherous whirlpools that devoured whole ships; of a breed of pokémon in Sinnoh that, despite being of the same species, were different colours on either side of a colossal mountain range; of a huge volcano that erupted from the bark of a mystical beast, giving life to a fiery bird.

Of all the towns and cities that the pirates visited, the most rowdy and excited bunch were from Lilycove. Their favourite tale was of the secret treasure that had been hidden from them since the dawn of time. They all knew of the mighty leviathan that patrolled the seas, swallowing wrong-doers.

In the taverns all across Lilycove, eager folk were listening with eager ears, keen to hear the tales of a young boy, who outwitted the God of the Sea and brought the wrath of every water-type pokémon, and survived to tell the tale. The story of Johnnathe LeGrante, the Pirate King:

The land of Sinnoh was undergoing a revolutionary change. The monarchy of King Persim was shuddering to a halt, as the exploited workers of the West side of Sinnoh began rebelling. It was on their side that majority of the kingdoms crops were harvested. They had began to create various mutinies against the crown, demanding freedom from their slave-like labour.

They hid their grain from the collectors, and even went the distance of slaying the men who came for their goods. Over time, the east of Sinnoh began to feel the gnawing ache of hunger, for the first time in their rich and pompous lives. It was most unfortunate that during the height of the west-Sinnoh revolution that a chain of disasters struck, a blizzard here, flooding there; natural catastrophes on all sides of the farming industries. Then the bourgeoisie began a rebellion.

The King, not knowing what to do –what, with rebellions starting left and right- placed new laws, new rations. The economy became immobilized and the cost of grain became impossible. A month's worth of wages in a wealthy family could barely afford a loaf of bread. What of the less privileged? People began scouring the land, scavenging for whatever scrap of food they might have found. Fights arose, massacres between friends and families. All for a morsel of food.

Some of the families tried fleeing, but this revolution was in the midst of a chaotic el Niño that surrounded the entire continent. The brutal weather spread from the shores of Canalave to the shores of Sunnyshore. No town was safe anymore. One family, the wealthiest in all of Sinnoh –apart from the monarchy- was one of the many families that attempted to defy the odds of survival in the unruly seas.

They had no boat to ferry them –commoners had stripped the wood from it to warm their furnaces in this violent winter-, and their only pokémon capable of swimming atop the perilous, crashing waves was big enough to carry one person. M. LeGrante knew that if his legacy had any hope of living on, it would be wise to allow his son to survive. And that was who they sent atop the golduck.

For many nights the boy and the duck floated atop the crashing waves. Numerous times, they boy fell unconscious from fatigue and slipped from the golduck's flanks into the icy confines of the sea. He was caught every time by the loyal pokémon, but it never took away the burdening pain that each breath he took could be his last.

The malnourished boy had not eaten for almost two weeks, and even then, it was only scraps that his family could unearth. His fatigue was getting the better of him, and both he and the pokémon knew that if they didn't reach civilisation soon, they would both perish in the vast emptiness of the ocean.

The two finally managed to reach one of the many islands that littered the seas of Hoenn. Awe struck and curious, the inhabitants of the island gathered around the boy, observing his sunken cheeks and swollen belly. The boy groaned, and the people ran to the bushes, hiding. They peered through the leaves as the boy came to, groaning and coughing up excess salt water. When he realised that he was no longer on the rocking waves, he jumped up in surprise, looking around in disbelief. That is when he saw his pokémon lying limply on the beach some distance from him. Its slender azure body was lying half in the water, the waves reaching up and pulling it ever closer to the darkness of the ocean.

Rushing over, poor, hungry Johnnathe gasped in fright as he saw that the pokémon was not breathing. Its dull red eyes were open and glazed over; they looked so lifeless. The familiar tang of salt prickled at his eyes.

"No..." he whispered, crouching down, and cradling the dead creatures head. "Wake up Slyv. Wake up!"

The concealed villagers saw the innocence of the boy, and knew him to be no real threat to them, so they emerged from their hiding place.

"Boy," an old man said, his skin tanned and weathered like old leather. "Who are you?"

Shrieking in surprise, the boy dropped the head of the pokémon, where it fell onto the wet sand. He jumped back and crawled away from them, into the water. But the feel of water splashing against his pale skin made him panic. His heart raced, and his breathing became shallow and ragged. Within moments, the exhausted boy fainted, his body falling backwards into the shallow wave.

When he awoke, the boy was frightened. He could not recognise his surroundings. He was inside a tent fashioned from leather –probably tauros hide, he presumed-, and he was covered in thick fur pelts of creatures he could not recognise. The air had the familiar smell of the sea breeze, but also the rich, sweet aroma of the juice of exotic fruits.

The opening to the outside world was just a flap cut from the leather, and it swayed in the wind, letting the cool air engulf Johnnathe. He wasn't as cold as he expected to be, and he looked down to see his body covered in shreds of material, also made from the hide of exotic creatures. Whoever had found him had also dressed him; poorly, thought the boy, as he observed the tattered fabric barely covering him. Half his chest was exposed, and he was wearing what looked like a skirt. Disgust filled him as he stood up, still staring at the skirt. It was women's clothing. Not something for a boy to wear.

He poked his head out of the hole in the tent, observing the surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the vast landscape, covered in tall, gangly palms and low, leafy shrubbery. And they were all growing out of sand. Johnnathe had never seen anything like this before. All the beaches he had seen back in Sinnoh were empty, devoid of any life. And the plants that he saw here, oh, they were speckled with fruits and blossoms of every colour. From rose-tinted fruit to cobalt buds, they were lit up by torches that dotted the area. The orange flames threw dancing shadows across the sparkling sand, and Johnnathe could honestly say that he had never seen such beauty before. The rawness of the scenery was overwhelming, and the boy could not even begin to fathom how such beauty could have come into existence.

"Boy!" came a voice, heavily accented. It was as exotic as the abstract scenery that surrounded Johnnathe. And it thrilled him to no end. He looked towards the source of the voice, surprised to see the man with the sweet, exotic voice be burly and brown. And wearing a skirt. Johnnathe scowled at the sight.

"Boy!" the man repeated, coming towards the tent. "I see you have awoken. Excellent." He smiled brilliantly, his white teeth contrasting greatly against his dark skin.

"Where is Slyv? What have you done with him?" the boy asked frantically, worry building within him.

"Your pokémon? I'm sorry, but it has passed on to the Other World. We have preserved the body, for we knew not the burial traditions you have been brought up with."

"No... Slyv... He can't have died. Impossible," Johnnathe whispered in disbelief. He felt his eyes sting, and a droplet trail down his face. That pokémon was all he had left. He was so far from his parents, from his home, from everything he ever knew. For the two weeks that they voyaged to this paradise island, they were loyal companions, keeping each other alive. How could they keep each other alive now?

"I'm sorry, boy," the man said sympathetically. "I know it is hard to lose a friend. I had that lowly experience too."

"Where am I?" Johnnathe asked, looking quizzically past the flaming torches and the towering foliage into the black void that led to the endless horizon. He had been unsure that he would find land; he was doubtful that a land beyond Sinnoh had existed.

"Mossdeep Island, boy, in the wonderful land of Hoenn." The man smiled widely, stretching out his arms, as if he could reach the entire world he knew.

Hoenn. Johnnathe had heard of myths of that place. More importantly, he heard of fairytales of the mighty leviathan, behemoth and, their ruler, the almighty ziz. They ruled over the physical traces of the world, it was said. The leviathan patrolling the seas, the behemoth protecting the land, and the ziz watching over both from his castle in the sky. But of course, they were fairy tales.

For the next few weeks, the boy learned the ways of the strange culture of Mossdeep. Then the pirates came.

Johnnathe was picking Nannab berries from high boughs of the palms when he saw a ship atop the rolling waves of the vast blue ocean. His heart fluttered with excitement. Although he had enjoyed his time in Mossdeep, he wanted to go to a more civilised place to carry out his father's legacy and create a name for himself. That ship could help him.

"Boy," called out a voice. Johnnathe looked down to see that it was the same man that had comforted him when he had awoken all those days ago. The man was Cale, and acted like a father towards the boy. And although Cale knew Johnnathe's name, he continued to call him 'boy'.

"Boy, come down, we have great news! The pirates have decided to come early!"

Panic rushed through Johnnathe, quickly replacing his excitement. Pirates. _Pirates_. What were these people doing, fraternising with such vile beings? Johnnathe had heard stories from the court jesters and the merchants. Pirates would pillage whole villages, stealing women for their own gratification, and burning crops. They were vicious and a nuisance to society; savages.

"Why are the pirates coming here?" Johnnathe's voice was wavering. He was scared, and Cale could see the panic painted across the young boys face.

"We conduct trades with them. They supply us with things that our island needs to flourish."

The young boy was full of ignorance and prejudice, but Cale couldn't blame him. The pirates didn't have much of a good reputation amongst the upper-class and the merchants. They worked for the poor civilisations, secluded from the world, such as the island of Mossdeep.

"Boy, the pirates are the reason our small and humble town is still in existence," Cale explained to the doubtful child. "They brought us miltank to produce milk, and tauros for meat. They brought seeds of various fruits that are not available to us naturally, so that we may have a wide variety of food to choose from. They brought us charmeleon to help start our fires. And most of all, they brought us balls to capture and befriend wild pokémon so that we may have pets or to make life much easier. So you see, boy, the pirates have done much to benefit us, and have asked for nothing in return."

The boy stood, his toes sinking into the loose sand, staring at the ship that neared the island. Quite frankly, the boy was flabbergasted. He had never expected something like that. But still, he was wary of the menacing folk that sailed the seas. The stories he had heard couldn't have been fabricated from the bitter tongues of merchants, they seemed all too real.

"Look, boy, how about you decide on whether they're genuinely selfless people or vile rats after you talk to them?"

Johnnathe nodded, knowing all too well that Cale was speaking wisely, and it would do him well to follow his advice. But the fear still lingered in his mind long after the man left to tell his tribe.

The boy stared at the huge ship, its massive sail proudly standing tall, as it snaked towards the tropical paradise that he called home. Even as the ship docked, with all the townsfolk rushing forward to greet them, Johnnathe watched warily.

All through the night, the pirates danced with the eligible ladies, drinking, gambling, telling stories. For the most of the night, Johnnathe sat on the beach, away from the burning inferno that the rest of his people danced around. He paid no notice of them, until he heard a particular story. He strained his ears to listen, attempting to block out the howling of the wind upon the waves, the drunken laughter and the crackling of the fire.

"Legend tells of a mighty beast that rests under the rippling surf, that judges poor, unfortunate souls lost at sea. It is said that the beast, the leviathan, is kind-hearted towards pokémon of its own type, but vengeful towards land-dwellers. The scope of its kind-heartedness extends to lending the creature some of its god-like powers, to even resurrecting the creature if the need arises. It is even rumoured, that when the war between the leviathan and the behemoth begins, all the deceased water-types will rise up from the murky depths of the sea and fight callously, with hate and malice in their eyes. They will be blinded with the hatred the prodigious Goliath felt when he was banished to the sea.

"Some stories do tell of a bargain, though, that the mighty sea-beast is willing to make. He is willing to transfer his soul into that of a live creature in order to take his revenge on the one who drove him to his endless trek through the oceans.

"His power is infused with a powerful orb, a sapphire that gleams and sparkles. Without it, it is powerless, weak and weary, unable to fight back, unable to even leave its underwater home."

Johnnathe jumped up suddenly, grinning at the thoughts that were formulating within his mind. No one seemed to notice his immediate absence, and he was left to slink off into the shadows and plot. What a cunning plan he would conjure, not only would he try to resurrect his deceased golduck, but he would also put those wretched pirates to rest. And as a result, his name would be known across the seas, in every nation. Yes, Johnnathe would be great. His parents had always encouraged him to get his way, no matter what it cost, but to him, the lives of a few worthless pirates meant nothing to him.

Hours after the finer details of his master plan were finalised, the boy went back to the roaring bonfire. The early hours of the morning were upon the dancing and laughing mixture of dark and light skinned, and the sky was beginning to slowly lighten into rich shades of rose and orange. The barrels of drink were long forgotten, and lay out of sight from the drunken figures. Most were already unconscious, but the ones that survived the night of harsh drink were flailing about, their minds lost until they sobered, which wouldn't happen for many more hours.

Johnnathe sat next to the passed out figure of the man who had told the inspiring story that night, and he waited. The boy waited until the man started to rouse. The man looked quite poor, much like the commoners that Johnnathe and his family were constantly trying to repel back home. The man had thick red hair, wildly smothering his face and head. He reeked of sweat and beer, and Johnnathe was forced to keep his nose wrinkled for the most part. He didn't want to be near this cretin, but it was essential to his plan. If Johnnathe was honest --not completely honest, mind you-- then the pirate might allow the young boy to come aboard with him and sail in search of the vengeful leviathan.

The man opened his eyes, revealing gleaming emeralds amidst a sickly red backdrop. Disgusting, thought Johnnathe, Absolutely disgusting.

"What do you want?" the man said, slurring slightly, wiping his eyes, trying to block out the harsh rays of the rising sun.

"I want to be a pirate," Johnnathe said calmly and surely. His face was emotionless. But he would not look the man in the eye. Instead, his vision trailed off towards the horizon, with the ocean becoming a magical magenta. The boy would not stop staring at the swells that rushed towards the paradise-like shore.

"You're just a boy. Why on earth would you want to be a pirate?" the man asked, stifling a yawn. He wished he could be getting some more drink now...

"I want to explore the oceans. I want to see what lies beyond this small island." Johnnathe hoped he sounded convincing.

"Look, kid, I don't know who you think you're fooling, but you can't fool me. Cale told me about you, about how you hated us pirates. How do I know that once I let you aboard the ship, you won't cut my throat?"

Johnnathe laughed. This was too humorous. That pirate was afraid of his well-being? That hypocrite; he must have cut the throats of hundreds --if not thousands-- of people in his time.

"Do you think I'd be stupid enough to do that to you? You're not the only pirate I'd have to deal with," Johnnathe explained, hoping he sounded sincere and innocent enough to be believable.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But why on earth would you want to become a pirate? There's not much to do, except for sailing across the world and trading goods between nations," the pirate said, sighing deeply.

"What's your name?" Johnnathe asked, truly curious.

"Armad."

"Well, Armad, do you remember what you had said last night?"

"Kid, I said a lot of things last night, and I'm in no state to remember it all," Armad looked around for some rum, or ale, or anything that could take away the annoying throb in his mind.

"Well, let me remind you," Johnnathe started. "You spoke of tales of a great leviathan that patrolled the seas, and how it was able to resurrect creatures of its kin. That it would be willing to make a trade, only if it were able to walk upon land to avenge itself."

Armad groaned inwardly. That child must not be thinking straight. "Look, whatever your name is ("Johnnathe," the boy interrupted), yes, Johnnathe, whatever. The thing is, that was just a story. It may be real, but then again, it may not be. I heard that story from a man on his deathbed, who managed to get a hold of a barrel of ale before he died. Who's to say that the creature really exists?"

Johnnathe felt bitter bile rising within him. He felt betrayed, and angered. "I'm willing to do whatever possible to get what I want, even if it means believing in the ramblings of a dying drunkard," Johnathe retorted, sneering at the pirate.

"And what is it that you want, boy?" Armad asked, staring curiously at the boy, wondering what secrets he could be hiding.

"I want to resurrect my pokémon." This wasn't a lie. This was partially true. Besides, what Armad didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Now, that was a lie.

"We set sail in two days. I suggest you get yourself ready."

Johnnathe smiled widely, and ran off to prepare. He would have to dig up the body of the golduck from beneath the sand. He was willing to do anything to get his fortunes back. Anything.

The pirates left as Armad had said, two days after the encounter between he and Johnnathe. Armad told the other pirates that Johnnathe was to be cabin boy, and was aspiring to become a pirate too. The other men just laughed at the boy, and went back to counting their money and drinking their ale.

"So, where do you think this leviathan might be hiding?" Johnnathe asked casually one day. Inside, he was getting anxious. He wanted to get his business over and done with. He wanted to leave the pirates as quickly as possible. He wanted to be home again. Not his paradise home, no, but his home that was stuck in the fixtures of a revolution that tore at the monarchy and the bourgeois indifferences that were in place.

"What? I think you mean, _if_ it exists, where would it be hiding," Armad said, not looking up from the maps he was studying.

"Never mind if it exists or not, just tell me where it could possibly be hiding." Johnnathe was annoyed, and his shaking hands displayed this.

"The sea is a never-ending thing. I have been sailing since I was your age, and I still haven't seen all of it. Cale told me of how you came to his island. He told me where you came from, Sinnoh. How long did the journey take, young Johnnathe?"

"I don't know..." Johnnathe mumbled, turning away. "About two ten-days, or so."

"Well, it will take more than a fortnight to find that mythical creature you're so obsessed with. Here, have a look at these maps, can you see how much there's left to discover? This is only the tip of the iceberg; there are many leagues left to sail. Who knows, maybe all this will be discovered," he waved his hands over the maps that had blank portions with labels saying 'undiscovered', "but not in our lifetime. And if you want to find something that lives beneath the seas, well, I'd assume it would take twice as long."

"I don't care about such logical things right now!" Johnnathe shouted, swiping his hand along the table, knocking ink pots and maps to the ground. "I want to know where the legends say it came from. Where is the origin of this beast?"

"If you must know," Armad said, picking up his fallen tools, and rearraging them into order. "If you must know, the stories came from here." He pointed at a map baring the label 'Hoenn'.

"Where is Hoenn?" the young boy asked. "You must take me there at once!"

"We are in Hoenn, can't you see the island we rescued you from?" He pointed to a small island, far from the coast of the mainland. It was labelled 'Mossdeep'.

"So, we must search these seas until we find this incorrigible beast!"

"We?" Armad asked sceptically. "Johnnathe, you may have your own dreams to follow, but I, along with all the other man on this ship, have duties we must uphold. The nations of the world are dependent on us to provide them with the necessities and luxuries that don't come naturally to them. Us pirates, the real _we_, are unable to help you with your fantasy quest."

Johhnathe, downhearted and depressed, walked off, towards the edge of the ship, clutching a hollowed out fruit stone. The pirate Armad had given him this as a gift, to hold his deceased pokémon so that it wouldn't take up space and be a nuisance to the other pirates. Sighing, Johnnathe looked to the endless stretch of sea that lay before him. Armad was right, it would take forever to search the seas, even if it was just a small portion, the seas of Hoenn.

But the stories that Armad told, they must have some way to identify the location of the sea-beast, even if it is just a myth. Johnnathe was willing to do anything to bring back the pokémon that had saved him, and helped his father's legacy live on.

"You'll be alive once again, my dearest friend, I'll make sure of it," the boy whispered to the ball, stroking its course body.

Johnnathe stared out at the wide open space that lay before him. It seemed to never end, as if the perfect landscape for a psychological terror staring at him menacingly from the evil contours of his nightmares. It brought back frightful memories of being stranded at sea, on the back of his guardian. He knew not whether his parents were still alive, but seeing the despicable state the country had been in, in the last few months before leaving that life behind. Now, his life was shallow and empty, with only the burning desire to resurrect his lifeless companion and begin a life of collecting goods, and making trades with wealthy businessmen, like his father had. Eventually, when he had accumulated enough money to support himself, he would set sail back to Sinnoh, and search the economic ruins for his family.

But for now, he would comply with the pirate's needs, biding his time until he was able to succeed in life.

Weeks passed, slowly becoming months, and still no progress was made in finding information on the whereabouts of the god-like water beast. Johnnathe was becoming impatient, becoming fidgety whenever he caught sight of the world surrounding him. The sea was a vast web of agony to the young boy. Each wave that crashed into the hull of the boat sent a tangle of anguish through his veins. He saw all the walrein floating on the surface, basking in the harsh rays of the sun, soaking up the pure energy of life. Wingull soared overhead in passing, disappearing far into the horizons of nothingness. Johnnathe then realised that he could use any of these pokémon for help. He could ride atop them to his appointed destination, the submerged world where the mighty leviathan resided. He would need plenty of those pokéballs that the pirates had in supply; he needed a few aquatic pokémon that had high stamina and were well suited to these waters. He needed a pokémon that knew the secrets of their ancient ruler, who might know of its location.

In the dead of night, the boy snuck into the storage rooms on the lower levels of the ship. He doubted that anyone would be awake at this time. No one should be. Even the guard dog, the ever faithful mightyena, it slept soundly as the boy swept past silently. He was careful not to make a sound, careful not to rouse any of the pirates that lay in deep slumber in the room above. One wrong movement could cost him everything he had worked hard for.

The storeroom was mainly filled with barrels of alcohol, the shelves packed with jars of pickled fruits, with large bundles of dried meat bound and hanging from the low ceiling. At the very back of the room, at the end of the cramped maze of crates and casks, was a doorway that led to the room with the pokémon. He crept slowly, careful not to knock anything over, flinching each time his footfalls caused a creak in the worn floorboards.

His fingers trembled as they rested on the curved brass handle. He was so close to freedom; just beyond this door, he'd be able to choose a companion to aid him in his quest. Soon, he'd be free from these pirates, closer to conquering the ocean.

The door pushed open, revealing a tiny room lined with shelves filled with brown balls. Inside each ball was a pokémon. Johnnathe was filled with excitement. He quickly made his way to the shelves, barely being able to make out the inscriptions on the shelves indicating the element the pokémon was bound to. His eyes narrowed, searching desperately for "Water". His heart skipped a beat when he found it after several long moments. Next, it was time to choose his pokémon. His hand eagerly reached out for the closest ball, and pressed the button in the centre, releasing the beast within. A red light illuminated the room, and the form of a small fish appeared, white and orange, flapping its fins around frantically. It was too small for the boy. He needed something larger, something he could ride atop for days, without wearing the pokémon out.

After several tries, with quite poor pokémon, Johnnathe's hands reached for the last pokémon in the water category. His eyes closed tightly for a moment as he whispered a small prayer to the great god. They then opened as he released the creature, and saw the familiar red light transform into the shape of a large creature, almost twice his height. The pokémon had to stoop to fit in the room, and its bulky arms, it kept by its side. It gave a snort from its scaled snout, its amber eyes flashing when the moonlight hit them. Slowly, it bared its teeth.

Johnnathe quickly scanned the creature with his eyes, observing the rippled muscles that flexed angrily. He decided in the little time he had left that this was his only possible choice. He returned the creature into the ball and left the room hastily, quickly grabbing a bundle of hanging meat and a jar of pickled berries. Without thinking twice, he ran quickly and silently up towards the deck, his body so filled with adrenaline that he was shaking with the exhilarated, exalted feeling. For the first time, the crisp, salty air filled him with profound joy. The sight of the ocean made him feel weak with excitement, as he released the scaled monster into the waves, jumping after it.

"I am Johnnathe," he whispered into the small hole of the reptilian pokémon's ear. "I am your new master." His hand gently stroked down the beast's snout, showing some sort of affection, hoping it would allow the creature to trust him.

It snorted in return, baring its razor sharp teeth. Thankfully, that was the extent of its' actions, and the boy climbed atop its' blue scaled back. "Swim," he whispered. "Swim for as long as you can. Just lose the boat."

Johnnathe looked back at the boat, watching it shrink quickly, and disappear in the horizon forever. Now that he was free to roam the seas however he pleased, he pulled a map from a leather bound satchel, and unfolded it, peering at the finely printed cursive. In this dim light, the boy could barely see his markings –his earlier preparations. A tiny x marked his current spot, some miles north of a peculiar town called Sootpolis. According to his calculations, he was somewhere on route 124, close to route 126. If he continued down to route 126, the east for some time, he should reach the area most likely to be the hiding place of the aquatic deity. The journey would take some time. He pulled on a compass that was attached to a chain around his neck, checking that he was indeed going south. He would have hated to backtrack, especially when it meant going closer to the ship, with the chances of getting caught so unbelievably high. Knowing those pirates, they would torture him for his thievery.

Weeks went on, and the boy continued in a southerly direction, atop his massive crocodile pokémon. His supplies ran low, and he was soon dehydrated, and when he thought it was the end for him, when he had given up all hope for the umpteenth time, he saw the towering mountaintop that was the home of the ancient Sootopolis city. It was there that he would rest for the night and steal whatever supplies he needed. He no longer cared for his reputation. The only thing his obsessed mind was stuck on was the insane lust of reviving his deceased pokémon, of destroying the ancient leviathan.

For several months, he roamed the oceans, feeding off of fish that he caught from the fishing rod that he had stolen all those days ago in Sootopolis. He found that on the southern side of route 128, there was a heap of uncharted islands, small, but abundant in pokémon and berries. He would retreat here if he needed the rest, or needed to stock up on supplies. Knowing that the leviathan would be hiding somewhere underwater, he trained his stolen pokémon, the ferocious feraligatr, to carry him through the water, deep under the angry swells. With its incredible speed, Johnnathe was able to cover miles of the underwater world whilst holding his breath. But still, apparently it was not enough.

For months, the boy scoured the underwater hell of the world, hating the wetness, hating the salty taste that intruded his mouth, the sting that bit at his eyes. He thought before his journey that the water was a disgusting thing, but now, he despised it. As he awoke with the blazing sun each morning on the rocking back of his feraligatr, he blanched at the endless sight of the rolling waves. He decided that he wanted to punish the water god for putting him through such hell, for existing along with the horrid ocean. He wished they would both end.

It was years later, as a man, that he found any clues as to the whereabouts of the leviathan. It was sickening and pathetic, that his brain was so obsessed with this one thought, that he had no other reason to live. But none could deny that when he found those ancient runes depicting some sort of demigod, he became the most elated man on the face of the planet. His dream had become so much closer. Scratched into walls in the underwater canyons, he found scenes from a memory, fading with the ever moving current of the water. But surely, they were proof that this creature existed. They must have been.

He followed the paths that the runes marked, until he found a hollow cavern, black and empty, leading into the heart of the earth. What choice did the man have but to follow it? For years he searched for this one treasure, for his living sapphire, for his water god, just so that he could confront it, and destroy it as it had destroyed him and everything he knew. But the twisted boy knew not why he hated the creature so, anymore. He had forgotten why he had developed such a hatred, but that did not matter to him. All he knew was that this creature had to be found, that his deceased companion had to be resurrected. His madness was overwhelming.

He urged the feraligatr to move forward, goading it to speed up. His air supply was running quite low, and he could see colourful specks flying about, disrupting his vision. Here, Johnnathe was certain that he would die, trapped within the underwater confines of this cavern. By amazing chance, the cavern dipped upwards slightly, until it reached an antechamber that was filled with musty air. The man and his stolen pokémon broke the surface of the water, both surprised at the discovery.

His breathing was ragged, as he inhaled quickly and unsurely. He certainly could not believe his luck. Finally he had found what would most likely be the hidden trove belonging to the god of the seas, the mighty cthulu that judged those who travelled across his domain, who ruled over the aquatic beasts. He was within reach, so close to his dream. His fingers absentmindedly reached for his bag, where, hidden between the tattered, drenched folds of sea charts, and tightly bound bags of berries, he found the rough surface of the ball his dearest friend was hidden within. He hadn't opened the ball yet, he hadn't ever tried to dare peer inside, to see the state in which the dead golduck was in. He knew that it would be a gruesome horror show, to macabre for his already tattered spirit.

The reptilian beast floated serenely towards the rocky bank, knowing in its mind that something important had been accomplished in this moment. And it was right; its owner was feeling elated, so much closer to succeeding.

Johnnathe dragged himself off if the pokémon, and bid it to follow him as he stumbled over the rough terrain. He was completely blind, there was no source of light. With his hands outstretched, he trudged slowly, feeling his way through the tunnel. He heard scuttling noises, footfalls that weren't his own, squeaks and snorts –a plethora of sound that indicated that he was not alone, that he was being followed, being watched. He pressed on, tense and worried.

In this abysmal domain, all concept of time flew past the man. He could not guess how long he travelled through the winding corridors of this underwater cavern. Even when he was fatigued, his body aching for rest, he continued on, forcing his body to the extremes. But it was worth it, when hours –or was it days? He couldn't tell—later, he saw a faint, dim glow up ahead. It shadowed the surroundings with a blue hue. Scrambling forwards, he crawled anxiously towards the mysterious light. This was it: the end.

Wearily, he entered a large, open space, filled with a blue blinding light. It shone from a sphere that rested at the top of a small pedestal before a serene pool of water. It was amazing, the light pulsating gently from the ball, like a heartbeat. Johnnathe hobbled towards it, hands outstretched, reaching hungrily for the treasure. He thought that with this orb, he could control the mighty leviathan, summon it, and force it to revive his deceased friend, bring him power, bring him recognition.

He didn't expect what happened next: as his trembling fingers touched the cool surface of the orb, all went black, and the chamber was filled with a rumbling sound. Loose rocks shuddered and fell as the room quaked, smashing, sending clouds of dust. Through the dust that refused to settled in the dank, stuffy air, Johnnathe could see red lines showing through the shuddering surface of the water. They seemed to connect, and intertwine, crossing beautifully about. The lines were becoming more clear, more defined as they rose above the surface, through the clearing dust. The man wasn't sure if his eyes deceived him, but it seemed as if the vibrantly glowing crimson lines were painted onto the bulbous body of some sort of levitating beast. Wing-like fins gently moved, the short stubs on the end of them curling like fingers. It stared expectantly from tiny black eyes, lined with the red streaks.

It opened its mouth, showing a row of sharply jagged teeth, and a monstrous bellow streamed out with such a force that the air pushed Johnnathe backwards. He could tell that this beast was the mighty leviathan, the god of the seas, the one that could help him. A feeling of excitement, of epic relief, flooded him.

But Johnnathe stood his ground, and bravely stepped forward. "I am here to make a proposition. I have heard of tales that claim of the mighty leviathan –which I have come to understand is you—seeks to make a trade. If you were to resurrect my fallen comrade, a fellow water-type pokémon, I would be willing to serve as a body for you to use for some amount of time."

As he paused, he noted that the beast's eyes narrowed, as if deep in thought. The tendrils that flowed from its' tail fluttered delicately in a non-existent wind. He could tell that the beast was intrigued, tempted by this tantalising offer.

Pulling out the pokéball holding his dearest friend, Johnnathe spoke again. "This is Slyv, my loyal companion. He died trying to extend my life. I want to repay him. I want to give him back the life he sacrificed." He pressed the button in the centre of the ball, releasing the body.

For the first time in years, his eyes fell upon the body of the rotting corpse of the golduck. The sight broke him. He fell to his knees. He couldn't breathe. His body had tensed up, paralysed with fear, with loneliness, with some profound emotion that he could barely remember feeling, on the day he had reached the island of Mossdeep, when he saw the hungry waves of the ocean pulling the pokémons' body into its' ravenous mouth. The feeling of losing something –everything—that mattered to him. Of losing it all, of seeing it being wrenched from him. The sight was grotesque; the sleek blue down that once covered the taut, slim body had disappeared, falling off in thick patches, falling into the holes that had withered through the flesh. Its' eyes were just empty hollows, black and eerie, staring blankly. Bile rose up in the man's throat.

"Please..." Johnnathe managed to choke out. "Please give him life. I offer you the chance to walk and wreak havoc, to do whatever you please. Just let him live." His grey eyes stared intensely at the black eyes of the demigod. Neither broke eye contact. Neither moved, save for the steady rise and fall of the mans chest, and the light flutter of the leviathan's tail.

A sudden moan broke Johnnathe from his mesmerised stare, and he saw the blue orb glow, as well as the lines sketched upon the beast's body. The rotting corpse began floating in midair, and red lines identical to those on the demigod appeared all over it. It started to shake, seizures taking over it. And the most marvellous things started occurring: skin was regenerating, feathers were sprouting, eyes were forming, lungs were heaving. Life was coming back to the creature.

Johnnathe stared in shock as the reanimation of his family's pet took place before his eyes. Quickly, he reached for the wooden ball, ready to take back the creature as soon as its webbed toes touched the ground.

A sigh of appreciation came from the leviathan's mouth as it saw what it had accomplished. It knew that soon, it would escape the cold domain of this prison. Soon, it would roam the open seas, chastising those who did wrong. What it looked forward to most was exacting its' revenge upon the vile behemoth. That beast was the reason it was stuck within this realm, held forever until pitiful land-dwellers would put an end to its' curse. It decided that it would take a moment to rest before it would send its spirit into that pitiful body of the human.

But how was it to know that Johnnathe was expecting it How was it to know that the moment it would close its eyes, the mans fingers would grip tightly around the glowing blue sphere, the orb that bonded it, that held it's powers?

Opening its eyes at the sound of footfalls, an angry roar fell from its gaping mouth, and it sped forwards, still floating, bashing its massive body against the rock wall.

Johnnathe ran through the corridor, his feraligatr stumbling behind it. His journey back was much quicker; he was no longer hindered by the searing darkness due to the fluorescent blue light of the magical orb. He could clearly make out every crag that he had previously tripped over, every rock that scraped his palms and knees. Within minutes, he was back at the start, in the antechamber that led to the dark, murky depths of the sea. Johnnathe assumed that this would be the last time he would ever venture into water again, as he climbed atop the pokémon he had stolen all those years ago. The reptilian pokémon dived head-first into the black pool, and, using it's bulky hind legs, sped through the twisting submerged passage. Bubbles of angry air smashed lightly against the man's face, and he pressed his body tight against the feraligatr's back, hoping it would result in a quicker escape.

Back inside it's prison, the enraged demigod continued bashing its body against the rocks, determined to break free, more determined than ever before. This rage, it gave the pokémon new power, newfound strength. The rocks would not budge, no matter how hard the pokémon tried, no matter how feverishly it pounded. After some time, it gave up, knowing that the ziz, the protector and the peacekeeper, put up barriers strong enough to withstand even the most strongest of attacks. So it closed its' eyes.

Laying on the sandy alcove of the stretch of islands that he had come to call his home over the last few years, Johnnathe panted and removed the special ball from his leather satchel. Whilst doing so, his fingers brushed against the cool surface of the still-glowing orb. That brief contact made him flinch, a shudder spreading over his body, an incensed howl echoing through his mind. Fleeting paranoia swept over him, but that soon passed as he released his pokémon. Golduck. Slyv. The pokémon that his father had entrusted him with. The pokémon that had been his only companion for many lonely, heartfelt weeks. Those few weeks were the hardest the boy had ever experienced. Coming from amongst the richest families in Sinnoh, he was not used to such poverty, he was not used to such emotional hardships.

The beady red eyes of Slyv stared expectantly at Johnnathe, it's expression that of confusion, as if it were trying to piece together parts of a puzzle. It hadn't realised that it had missed out on so many years of its' young masters' life. It barely recognised the man that now stood before it.

The orb pulsated once within the leather satchel. The trees shook, the water rippled, and miles off, a ship shuddered with the waves.

At that moment, the pokémon snapped. It's face contorted into that of malice; vicious, unrequited hared. It lunged at the man.

The feraligatr that was lounging on the soft sands beside its trainer quickly sat up. Its eyes were narrow slits, peering angrily at Johnnathe. A roar escaped its' mouth.

Johnnathe was lucky that day, when the nearby ship decided out of mere curiousity to investigate the origin of the worldwide shudder. It picked him up as he was striding across the beautiful sands of the bay, escaping the angry clutches of a golduck, a feraligatr, and several krabby, staryu. He was badly beaten, sopping wet, possibly on the verge of dying. If that ship hadn't had found him when they did, he would have been ripped apart from the ferocious claws of his crocodile pokémon, or bruised to the point of internal bleeding by the harsh jets of water that streamed from the mouths of the pokémon that chased him.

As the ship sailed away with the foolish man upon it, aquatic pokémon from all across the seas of Hoenn chased after him, controlled by the blind fury of the demigod. Even –much to his horror—the two pokémon he had known for years chased after him, but he felt unable to cast away their balls.

Constantly, rain fell upon him. For the rest of his natural born life, he was hounded. Even when his feet hit the shores of Lilycove, stepping towards the mainland, trekking for days until exhaustion loomed over him, krabby crawled anxiously towards him, dehydration depleting their numbers.

Johnnathe decided that he needed to hide the orb. It seemed to him that it was this ornament that the creatures were after, they could feel its aura resonating, and they sought it out. Not far from Lilycove, Johnnathe spotted a mountain poking out from the water. He had heard rumours that this mountain was a sacred resting place for pokémon, that those with evil intentions were barred from stepping foot on the island. What better place could he hide the orb? And whilst he was there, the creatures that hounded him would be held at bay, unable to reach him.

He climbed to the top of the sacred mountain, ignored by the wandering spirits that made his hair stand on end. From the towering cliff sides, he could see the monstrosity of the seas attempting to climb up the sides, attempting to lessen the gap between them, but the island would not allow them to, sensing their evil intentions. He was safe for now. At least he hoped so.

When he reached the top, he fell to his knees, unable to take the exhaustion anymore. The orb felt heavy in his hands, weighing him down. When his grip on it released, the orb fell. The moment it touched the ground, the world shuddered. Johnnathe could tell that the leviathan was feeling such immense hatred, rage for allowing its' precious jewel to touch the foul earth, it's most vile enemy.

When the jewel touched the ground, something within the man changed. A spark lit within him, and when he stood and watched the seas around him diligently, and for the first time since he was a boy in Sinnoh, he felt no fear towards the water. His eyes scanned the swells that cruelled the surface, and he felt compelled to go towards the sight. He felt the need to conquer the waves, to brave the angered creature that lay imprisoned within the underwater cove. With newfound courage burning through his veins, he hastily made the trek back down to the shore of the tiny island mountain, and revelled in the painful ache that the water sent through him. And he loved it. It gave him a rejuvenated feeling of life. It gave him hope, that he could surmount the plague of fears that the lowly demigod had set upon him.

It also filled him with the need to find his lost pokémon. He found it ironic, that the very pokémon that he had fought for years for had tried to kill him. And he stupidly allowed himself to abandon his best friend, the one who had saved his life all those years ago, who had braved the dark and perilous waves to make sure that that young boy survived.

Johnnathe wouldn't end up finding his companions, neither Slyv or the feraligatr he had stolen, but that didn't mean he never stopped trying. Upon his return to Lilycove, he jumped onto the first ship he could find, killed the captain, threatened the crew, and forced them all to help him on his quest. He turned into a pirate, from the looks of things. He knew this, and didn't care. He tried to make a name of himself and he succeeded. But, that was the purely shallow side that was achieved. Nothing else he had fought for was ever achieved, and this is what distressed him the most. He could care less about a name and a reputation.

Kyogre, the mighty leviathan, it would forever feel the need for vengeance towards all land walkers, especially now, humans. It vowed to flood the earth if it was ever reunited with its orb, for that was where all its power lay. That was why it could not escape the cavern in which it was imprisoned. That jewel was the key.

The next time –if there ever was going to be a next time—it would come in contact with its orb, it would destroy the earth. That was a promise.


End file.
